


Life On Shuffle

by carma19



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Time Travelling Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carma19/pseuds/carma19
Summary: “I know you don’t know me, Beca. But I’ve basically known you my whole life.”Bechloe // The Time Traveler's Wife AU -- Beca Mitchell suffers from Chrono-Impairment, a rare genetic disorder that causes her to spontaneously and uncontrollably time travel. Living life out of order isn't easy for Beca, and it's just as hard for Chloe, who struggles to cope with her frequent, often dangerous absences.Please note: You do not need to know anything about The Time Traveler's Wife to understand this fic. Only concepts were borrowed, not plot points or characters. :)





	1. When Beca Met Chloe

**September 4, 2011**

Chloe, age 21

Beca, age 18

 

“The word’s out. The Bellas are the laughingstock of a capella. Good luck auditioning this year, douchebees.” Bologna Barb pinned the two Bellas captains with a slicing smirk as she strutted off to another booth. The Barden Activities Fair had a lighter turnout than last year, but that didn’t stop Aubrey and Chloe from trying to scout new talent. New talent that they needed _badly_.

 

“Oh my god.” Chloe‘s hand tremored and she clutched her clipboard to stop it. “This is a travesty.” It didn’t feel any better singing such a sad word, but that didn’t stop Chloe from trying. Singing helped a lot of things, but the fact that even Bologna Barb refused to audition again had Chloe’s typically sunny outlook clouding over with panic.

 

Aubrey led Chloe to the front of their booth with an authoritative march. “Just take the dramatics down a notch. We will be fine.”

 

“You’re the one who got us into this hot mess.”

 

“Oh, we’ll be fine,” Aubrey repeated, as if her words would will her hopes into reality. “I am confident that we will find eight super hot girls with bikini-ready bodies who can harmonize and have perfect pitch.” Aubrey’s strained smile hitched wider. “Just keep flyering. We have tradition to uphold.”

 

Chloe sighed. “How about we just… get good singers?”

 

“What? Good singers, what?” The Australian accent belonged to a freshman who sold herself to not only Chloe, but intrigued her selective co-captain. The girl could clearly sing and dance after matching pitch and demonstrating her exotic moves on the asphalt.

 

“I’ll see you at auditions, Fat Amy,” Aubrey said with a nod and the hint of an amused smile, passing the mermaid dancer a flyer.

 

Fat Amy wasn’t what Chloe expected. She certainly wasn’t what Aubrey expected, either. But Chloe liked to think she recognized passion for music and talent when she spotted it (it was part of her job as co-captain now--a role she took more seriously than most things in her life), and the Australian mermaid dancer certainly had promise. With an open mind and open hearts, she and Aubrey would fill their roster and work their butts off to get back to the ICCAs. And this year, they were going to win it all.

 

“What about her?” Chloe craned her neck and squinted at a girl with her back to them lingering by the radio station set-up across the aisle a few booths down. If she stopped to take a radio station flyer, clearly that meant she was into music, right? As the girl turned and strolled closer with her head down reading that flyer, Chloe noted first the sharper ridge of her nose, the gauged piercings spanning the outer shells of her ears, and when she looked up--Chloe froze. Her body went completely rigid, clutching her clipboard so hard her knuckles went white. Her eyes blew wide, shining with disbelief, wonder, and a dash of hurt and longing.

 

Aubrey followed Chloe’s gaze before Chloe’s cognitive processing seemed to stall out and the blonde wrinkled her nose at the girl as she drew closer. “Ooh, I don’t know. I think she looks a little too… alternative… for us.”

 

The girl with the piercings tossed a curious glance their way anyway, and Aubrey peered over at Chloe, suddenly noticing her mannequin-esque posture. “Chloe? Are you okay?”

 

“ _Beca?_ ” Chloe’s brain seemed to have rebooted and she remembered to exhale, that single name breathy and reverent and in two syllables quivered with disbelief. Almost as if she’d seen a ghost.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Beca managed a tight-lipped, apologetic grin. “Sorry, do I know--”

 

“Oh my god!” Chloe flung her clipboard at Aubrey and lunged forward before Beca could react with more than a “ _Dude!_ ” as she wrapped her arms around Beca’s neck, hugging her with all she had while inhaling deeply. Everything she remembered about Beca, down to her height and her scent came racing back to memory and she held her almost too tightly, as if the brunette would disappear if she let go. An awkward pat on her back and a voice clearing near her ear brought her back to earth.

 

“Seriously, I kinda… can’t breathe?” It took Chloe a few second to notice Beca’s whole body tensed in the embrace, her face flushed from the unexpected contact as Chloe pulled back and held her at arm’s length, as though _inspecting_ her.

 

“Oh my god, you’re so short! I never realized how short you were. And, oh my god, you’re… younger than me, and you’re wearing sooo much eyeliner and your earrings are super spiky and it’s super adorbs!”

 

Beca’s jaw opened and closed a few times, mimicking a fish out of water as she stared at Chloe and offered a few slow blinks.

 

“Chloe? What’s going on? Who is this, exactly?” Aubrey looked back and forth between Chloe and Beca, head tilted to the side as she tried to suss out why her best friend was freaking out over this strange freshman.

 

Chloe seemed to remember herself--her secret-- _Beca’s_ secret, actually--at the same moment when something clicked into place in Beca’s brain: She’d known Beca for pretty much her entire life, but Beca hadn’t actually met her yet. Until now. Oh, god, this was Beca’s first time meeting Chloe and she was being a total weirdo...

 

“Hello? Earth to Chloe?” Aubrey narrowed her eyes at her co-captain.

 

“Childhood friend!” Chloe piped, releasing her hold on Beca’s upper arms, her own cheeks warming when she realized her brain had stalled out again. “Sorry, Beca. It’s… it’s been a long time, I didn’t mean to--”

 

“No, no. It’s cool. Sorry, I--remember, Chloe,” Beca added her name, taking a deep, steadying breath and flashing a tight-lipped smile to Aubrey.

 

Chloe knew Beca was lying about remembering her, but she also must’ve worked out Chloe knew her secret by the way she’d reacted, so Chloe was happy to stand and smile serenely, trying to will her heart to stop thundering in her chest..

 

Aubrey cast another curious look at Chloe before handing off a flyer to the freshman. “Any interest in joining our a capella group?”

 

Beca seemed relieved to have the excuse to break eye contact again and stare down at a flyer. “Oh, right… this is, like, a thing now.”

 

Chloe beamed. “Oh totes! We sing covers of songs but we do it without any instruments. It’s all from our mouths.”

 

Beca’s brow shot up. “Yikes…”

 

Aubrey sputtered, her hand bracing over her chest to indicate how much offense she took to that reaction. “Aca-scuse me?”

 

“We should catch up!” Chloe declared, hoping to cut the tension between Aubrey and Beca. “I mean, it’s been… _ages_ , right? And we can talk more about a capella and I’ll give you all the deets about the groups on campus and why we’re the tits…”

 

Beca blinked owlishly, still clearly a bit stunned. “Yeah, uh--sure.” She searched Chloe’s face as if trying to place her in a memory.

 

And Chloe couldn’t stop smiling like a serial killer, but whatever. “I’m finished here in an hour or so, I can meet you somewhere?”

 

“I was gonna go to the, um…” Beca motioned toward the brick building on campus. “Coffee place. Shop. Coffee shop thing.” She winced.

 

Somehow, Chloe brightened even more. “The Barden Beanery, totes! I’ll see you there!”

 

“Totes…” Beca couldn’t help the low, decompressing chuckle, and she offered a tight nod to Aubrey before heading off.

 

“What the hell was that, Chloe?” Aubrey asked when the younger girl with the ear monstrosities walked out of earshot.

 

Chloe watched Beca skulk off like a scared fawn, wishing she could keep her in her line of sight. “We were kids, she didn’t remember me at first…” Chloe waved her hand dismissively, laughing in an attempt to gather some composure. “It’s not a big deal, Bree, let’s keep recruiting.”

 

Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly after Chloe saw Beca. Talked to Beca. Hugged Beca again for the first time in _years_. Her lip caught between her teeth and she kept peering around, clearly distracted from their mission at hand, so much so that Aubrey rolled her eyes after half an hour. “Look, I can finish up here on my own. Go ahead and catch up with your old friend.”

 

Chloe gasped, taking Aubrey’s hand and offering an affectionate squeeze. “Really? Thanks, Bree!”

 

“And don’t twist her arm if she doesn’t want to audition!” Aubrey called after Chloe who practically skipped down the row of club-hosted recruitment booths toward the brick building housing the campus coffee shop.

 

Chloe wrenched open the door and stepped aside to let two chattering students through before crossing over the threshold, immediately inhaling the scent of coffee beans and espresso swirling through the shop’s air. She scanned the shop and her heart thudded harder when she spotted Beca toward the back corner, huddled behind a laptop wearing headphones that looked too big for her head as she sipped from her coffee cup. _Be cool, Chloe. She doesn’t know you, but she will._ Bracing herself with a deep breath, Chloe smiled as she approached Beca slowly, standing by her table long enough for Beca to sense someone’s presence.

 

Beca jolted out of her deep concentration, glancing up at Chloe with another one of those tight-lipped grins. “Hey,” she said, a little too loud before tugging her headphones down to rest around her neck. “Chloe, right?”

 

“Hi. Yep, that’s me. Chloe Beale.” Chloe offered a sheepish grin in return while offering her hand out toward Beca. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out back there, but I haven’t seen you in, like, almost four years, and I just…” She blew out a puff of air. “Really missed you.” She laughed. “Sorry, that has to be weird to hear. I know you don’t know me, Beca, but I’ve basically known you my entire life.”

 

Beca reached out to shake Chloe’s hand, clearing her throat as she motioned to the seat across from her. She slowly closed her laptop screen and kept her eyes on Chloe as she sat down in the vacant chair. “You haven’t seen me in… almost four years?” She lowered her voice. “So, you know about my…”

 

“Chrono-Impairment,” Chloe said matter-of-fact, beaming. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone. I’m totes an A+ keeper of secrets.” She paired that fact with a warm wink.

 

“Chrono-Impairment…” Beca repeated, cocking her head to the side. “Is that… what it’s called?”

 

Chloe blinked. “Oh! I guess--it will be, someday! You said… I mean, older-you said that’s what it’s called. You said that’s what Dr. Ford named it.”

 

“Older-me,” Beca muttered, huffing a laugh as she reached up to rake a hand through her hair. “Dr. Ford, nope. That… doesn’t ring a bell, either. Sorry, I… I’ve never actually met someone I’ve, um… met before? In the future?”

 

“Well it’s my past. Your future though, yep.” Chloe popped the ‘p’ with another accompanying wink. Really, considering Beca was the time-traveler, Chloe seemed to have a better handle on this than she did. She couldn’t totally blame the girl for being in shock, though--she did pretty much ambush her.

 

Beca swallowed hard and bounced her knee; Chloe could see it fluttering nonstop on the side of her chair. “O...kay. Can we, like… back this up a little? I just… I’m not used to people knowing about my curse. It’s not exactly something I go around advertising. Especially here, I mean--this was supposed to be sort of a fresh start for me, living away from home and everything.”

 

“Your curse?” Chloe had never heard older Beca call it that before. She did mention that it had been tough on her as a teenager, adjusting to adolescence while also dealing with such a unique burden. Technically, Beca was still a teenager, so it did make sense that she was still struggling with it. Not that it got much better for Beca… well, not that Chloe would know for sure, but the older version of Beca she’d grown up getting to know seemed much calmer, much more at peace with her condition. Though, maybe she was keeping the harsh reality behind a mask, not wanting to open up too much, especially to a kid. Jeez, this whole thing was super confusing… now more than ever.

 

Beca rolled her eyes. “My… whatever it’s called. Chrono-Impairment. So. What do you know about it, exactly?”

 

“Well,” Chloe laced her fingers on the table. “I know it causes you to spontaneously travel back through time. I know you can’t control when it happens, and I know…” She leaned forward a bit, the corners of her eyes crinkling with sympathy. “I know when you travel, you can’t take your clothes with you, so you land… totally naked, whenever it happens.”

 

A low chuckle escaped as Beca’s cheeks pinkened, and she nodded in the affirmative. “Yeah... that’s usually the shittiest part.”

 

Chloe laughed along. “I used to leave you outfits in the treehouse when you’d appear in the woods near my family’s home outside Portland, Oregon.”

 

Beca took a moment to process that, offering an appreciative nod. “And you know me… like, pretty well? How… how long have you known me, exactly?”

 

Chloe’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Well, _I_ first met _you_ when I was six-years-old. You were… thirty-something then, I think. After that, you’d randomly pop in and hang out with me about… every other month since then, usually… from anywhere between twenty minutes to a few hours at a time.”

 

The brunette’s brow furrowed and she reached for her coffee cup once more, taking a sip as she let that sink in. “It’s not a common thing for me, to travel back to the same spot more than once, so that’s… weird, that I spent so much time with you.”

 

“It’s because we’re best friends,” Chloe said with a decisive, pleased nod. “That’s what older-you always told me, anyway. That I’d grow up and meet you and we’d be best friends for life. But you never actually told me specifically when or how we’d meet, so that’s why I was in shock, I guess...” Sure, that could explain the freak out during the Activities Fair in front of Aubrey.  

 

Beca’s chuckle sounded disbelieving, and she squinted at Chloe. “Really? I mean, no offense, dude, but you seem a little too… perky for me.” Amusement pulled at her lips. “What else did older-me say? Did I tell you about your future? Did I tell you--” Beca gasped. “Oh, hey--do I finish out college, or do I ditch and move to LA? This is kind of important, I have a little war going with my dad…”

 

Chloe, unfazed by the half-hearted insult, simply shrugged. “And you seem a little too… sharp, for me.” Her fond gaze flickered to Beca’s ear spike. “But we can balance each other out.” Her eyebrows shot up. “What, _you_ don’t know how it works out?”

 

Beca shook her head. “I don’t travel forwards, only backwards. That’s why you’ve only met older versions of me.”

 

“Oh,” Chloe nodded. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.” A wry smile pulled on her lips again. “Wow, this is, like… so weird. I’m the one with the information for once, and you’re totally in the dark. You were always kind of a jerk about it, too, to be honest. Always telling me I needed to find things out for myself for whatever reason, so you didn’t tell me much. But I was able to sneak some details out of you when you weren’t expecting it.” Chloe winked again. “So I don’t think I can tell you what path you choose. I think you’ve gotta figure it out on your own.”

 

An inelegant snort passed Beca’s lips. “Wow. Future-me is kind of an unhelpful dick.”

 

“Future-you was always super nice to me,” Chloe assured her, hoping Beca didn’t notice the fractional glance to the side. The last time Chloe saw Beca, it wasn’t a very positive interaction, but… that was four years ago. Fights happen. And Chloe was so happy to have Beca in her life again and more permanently from here on out that she decided to keep the past in the past with that one. “But yeah, as far as providing information about the future… mine or yours… you were pretty tight-lipped.”

 

“Guess I must’ve had my reasons,” Beca muttered, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. She eyed Chloe up and down as if she had so many more questions but wasn’t sure how to ask. She brought her coffee cup back to her lips and took another long pull of whatever it was she was drinking.

 

“So… you’re here. In real time. Like, attending college here, not just… popping back to the past.” As Chloe said those words, they sunk into her bones and relief washed through her. All her life, she’d been waiting for Beca, waiting and waiting and waiting, and once Beca arrived, she waited for her to slip away for another month or so. Now, things were different, and Chloe’s heart thudded harder. “And you don’t know me yet, so. That means we should get to know each other better,” Chloe declared, her lips twisting into another mischievous smile. “And the best way for you to do that would be to audition for the Bellas.”

 

Beca scoffed. “Dude, no. I’ve got, like… five classes I’m taking and I’m gonna apply for the radio station internship. Besides, I don’t even sing.”

 

Chloe’s jaw fell slack and she quickly composed herself, flinging an accusatory finger across the table with a knowing smirk. “You, Beca Mitchell, are a dirty, dirty liar. I know for a fact that you sing.” She leaned in more. “Tell you what. If you audition for the Bellas, I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know about your future trips to my past.”

 

The offer, Chloe knew, was too intriguing for Beca to pass up, but she considered for a moment anyway. “Yeah, okay. Fine.”

 

With her lip caught between her teeth, Chloe’s pointed finger pulled back and she extended her pinkie. “Promise?”

 

Another exasperated eye-roll--one Chloe had seen so many times before--flashed on Beca’s face and she reached out to hook pinkies with Chloe. “Promise.”

 

****

 

**October 2, 2001**

Chloe, age 11

Beca, age 27

 

“Shit,” Beca hissed as her bare feet hit crunchy leaves and she crouched on the ground in the colorful autumn forest, instantly alert and scanning the area for any signs of life; being spotted by people immediately after traveling always proved embarrassing, but she really didn’t feel like scaling a tree bare-ass naked to avoid an angry looking fox again. Thankfully, aside from the crisp fall chill in the air, she didn’t sense any threat to her person. Upon spotting the familiar white contemporary-style stone-and-stucco house through the thicket of loose-leafed trees to confirm her location, she raked a hand through her hair before crossing her arms over her naked chest as much of the initial tension that always followed a travel released from her neck and shoulders. With her grey-blue eyes on watch, Beca hurried over to what had become a safe haven over the years--a thick oak boasting a decade-old treehouse near the forest’s edge. When she reached the sanctuary, she found the stacked, horizontal notches etched into the trunk, which gave Beca a hint of _when_ she’d landed, as she’d already figured out the _where_.

 

The tallest notch chiseled from the tree stood about four feet, ten inches off the ground. Beside the height marker, Mr. Beale had carved “ _Chloe - age 11_ ” jagged into the bark. On the other side of the tree, Beca knew she’d find the progressive height markers for Chloe’s brother, Ryan, but she could do the math in her head to know he was fourteen and probably towering over Beca even at this age. She climbed the treehouse ladder as quickly as she could and breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes locked on the old costume trunk acting as a makeshift coffee table, where Chloe had left clean clothes for Beca, as she had ever since Beca first traveled to the Beale family’s property back when Chloe was six.

 

Beca shivered from the chill in the air, moving quickly to pull on what she was sure was Ryan’s old jeans; they fit a bit loose and long in the legs and snug in her hips. She slid her arms through Ryan’s comfy flannel shirt next, buttoning it up and rolling the sleeves up to her elbows. She bent to roll the bootcut jeans, too, cuffing them up to her ankles before sliding her feet into warm socks and Chloe’s boots (thankfully, she and Chloe were both currently a size six, though Beca knew well enough that Chloe’s feet hadn’t stopped growing). Once she’d dressed, she moved to the treehouse window facing the backyard and the rear of Chloe’s house, reaching out to hang the yellow flag from the lip of the window, indicating to Chloe (and only Chloe) that she was there. Chloe might not see it in time (or at all, depending on after-school activities and her family’s weeknight schedule), but Beca knew she had somewhere between a few minutes to a few hours to kill in the past, so she flopped back onto one of the large beanbag chairs, forcing some deep breaths.

 

She should’ve been home now with her fiancee, preparing for another check-up with her geneticist, Dr. Ford. Instead, she was stuck in a treehouse in 2001 until her body decided it was time to travel back to her present. Frustration coiled in her stomach but she willed it away. It could’ve been worse, she damn well knew that. She could’ve traveled somewhere unfamiliar and crowded that would’ve landed her naked in public, or somewhere outdoors in the dead of winter. This disorder, this Chrono-Impairment, as Dr. Ford called it, forced Beca to learn a handful of skills she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have needed without it--survival tactics like pickpocketing, lockpicking, breaking and entering. She wasn’t proud of it, but if she died in the past, she died in the present, and aside from this pain in the ass genetic disorder, she actually liked her life. She just wished she could get back to it as soon as possible.

 

“Beca?” Eleven-year-old Chloe Beale’s voice carried up to the treehouse from the ground, and even in her two-syllable name, Beca heard the evident excitement in her tone.

 

“Yep, it’s me,” Beca called back, listening as the kid version of Chloe Beale scaled the ladder and burst through the treehouse door. She was sure she’d never get used to traveling back to spend time with Chloe at different stages of her life, but she appreciated this unique look at her childhood all the same. “You got taller,” Beca mused as Chloe ducked into the entrance, flashing a silver braces-laced smile.

 

“You always say that,” Chloe said with a laugh, setting down the purple Jansport she’d slung over her shoulder before dropping to her knees and launching at Beca in a hug. Some things never changed. Or--had always been?

 

Beca hugged her back, always mindful of things like personal space and trying not to swear too much around younger Chloe. “Because it’s true. Well, except when I get older and travel back farther--but whatever. To you, you’re taller, no matter how old I am.” Because Chloe was a normal person who lived her own life chronologically, unlike Beca.

 

“How old are you this time?” Chloe asked, dragging her Jansport backpack closer as she flopped onto the beanbag next to Beca, those wide blue eyes alight with excitement as they searched Beca’s face for signs of aging.

 

“Twenty-seven,” Beca supplied, narrowing her eyes. “Why, how old do I look?”

 

Chloe squinted harder, tipping her head to the side, her shoulder-length red hair clipped back in four or five segments with what looked to Beca like colorful little butterfly clips. It continually amused Beca how Chloe always seemed to be up on the latest fashion trends, no matter her age. “Hmmmmm…. Definitely younger than Mom, so you’re good.”

 

Beca snorted. “Seriously? Thanks, Chlo. Your mom’s… what, almost forty?”

 

A slight shrug lifted Chloe’s shoulders. “Yeah, but, like… is there really a difference between thirty and forty?”

 

Groaning, Beca tilted her head back and cast her arm over her eyes. “Yes, Chloe. Yes there is.” She sighed. “Thanks again for the clothes. You sure Ryan’s not missing them?”

 

Chloe beamed and fished into her bag, offering Beca a green apple, no doubt pilfered from her fridge as a snack for herself. “Nope! He’s too tall for those jeans now anyway, and he’s got, like... a bazillion of those types of shirts, so he won’t notice one’s missing. It’s so cool that we’re the same shoe size now though! Aren’t those boots super comfy??”

 

“They’re great,” Beca assured her, accepting the apple with a nod of thanks and biting into it with a juicy crunch.

 

Chloe pinned a curious look on her, that same devilish glint in her eye where Beca knew she was going to try to weasel some information about her future. “It’d be cool, you know, if we could share shoes when I’m older, too…”

 

Beca leveled a harder look at her in return. “It would be.” Beca knew Chloe had never been very sly, but it was super amusing to watch her attempt at tricking Beca for intel. Especially eleven-year-old Chloe, who possessed absolutely zero chill. (Not that older Chloe ever really carried much in the chill department to begin with…) It was important to Beca to not let Chloe know much about her own future, especially where Beca was concerned, mostly because Beca never wanted Chloe to feel like she didn’t have control over her own life, and maybe a little bit because she was terrified she’d say or do something that would mess up the future they’d worked so hard to create together. Some type of butterfly effect bullshit. It was too risky, so Beca was vague whenever possible, especially when Chloe asked about Beca’s life in addition to (and relative to) her own.

 

“So do I get taller??” Chloe fell to her knees, inching closer to Beca and batting her eyelashes pleadingly. “Please, just give me something! How tall do I get? What size shoes do I wear when I’m old? Do I ever dye my hair or get gross chunky highlights and live to regret it? How big do my boobs get??”

 

Beca snorted a laugh. “Dude, I am not answering that.” Beca looked up to the ceiling of the treehouse and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“But I’m so flat, c’mon! Give me some hope here! Hannah and Rachel already grew out of training bras and I feel like I’m doomed!”

 

“You’re not doomed,” Beca said with a huff of laughter. “I’m not giving you any details, okay? But you’re not doomed. Late bloomer, that’s all. And--it’s probably not even that late. You’re only eleven.”

 

Chloe breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank god.” She recovered quickly, her face lighting up with a megawatt smile yet again. “Oh! Oh my god, guess what? I taught myself the Dirty Pop dance!”

 

Beca quirked a brow. “The what?” She took another bite from the apple, remembering she’d worked so hard in her home studio she’d missed lunch, which explained why the apple tasted so damn good to her. (She’d also been stressed over nailing a new track, which likely triggered this travel…)

 

“N’SYNC, duh!” She leaned over to the battery-operated boombox sitting between the beanbags and hit play. Half a beat later, N’SYNC’s Celebrity album filtered through the treehouse and Chloe scrambled to her feet. When Justin’s voice hit that first note, Chloe turned to face Beca, showing off that dancing skill she seemed to have been born with. Eleven-year-old Chloe bopped in perfect rhythm to the song, landing every move Beca so vaguely remembered from that music video, and Beca watched with a fond grin.

 

After the performance, Beca offered a clap around her apple with an accompanying grin. “That was awesome. Better than J.T. himself.”

 

Chloe breathed hard--of course she’d put her all into her performance, as she always had--and grinned that metal-toothed smile at Beca. “Wanna learn it? Oooh, let me teach you!”

 

Beca wrinkled her nose. “Nah, I’m good, dude. Thanks though.”

 

“Pleeeeease! C’mon, Beca, it’s super easy!” Chloe slammed Beca with one of her trademark pouts that, to this day, always managed to jab Beca between the ribs.

 

With a groan, Beca rolled her eyes and pointed to Chloe’s Jansport. “That depends. Did you do your homework yet?”

 

Chloe’s face fell. “Not all of it…”

 

“And did you or did you not tell your mom you were coming up here to do homework?”

 

“Ugh, fiiiine.” Chloe flopped back down and hit the pause button on her NSYNC CD, ruffling through her backpack for her notebook and mathematics textbook. “Wanna help me? We’re doing pre-algebra.”

 

Beca pulled a face. “Sorry, Chlo. I’m really shi--crappy at math and always have been.”

 

Chloe flopped onto her stomach, fishing her mechanical pencil from the front pocket of her bag and flipping to her homework pages. “After I finish, then can I teach you?”

 

Beca had to admire Chloe’s perseverance, even at a young age. “If I’m still here, yeah. You can try. But don’t half-ass your homework.”

 

With a giggly salute, Chloe dropped her focus to her notebook, humming some other undoubtedly bubblegum pop jam to herself while she worked through problem after problem.

 

Only ten minutes passed before a voice carried from the back porch. “Chloe! Come in and wash up for dinner!”

 

“Oh come _on,_ ” Chloe whined and flopped onto her arms with a dramatic huff.

 

“Chloe! Did you hear me, sweetheart?”

 

Sighing, Chloe pushed to her knees and turned toward the window facing the house. “Coming!” With a frown, Chloe hurried to collect her books into her backpack, turning back to Beca with that frantic look in her eye. “I’ll eat fast and come back after dinner, okay? Hopefully you’ll still be here and we can work on the dance!”

 

Beca forced a smile. “Don’t eat too fast or your parents’ll think something’s up. If I’m not here when you get back, you can show me next time.”

 

Chloe bit her lip, pulling the straps onto her back so she could climb down the treehouse ladder with both hands. “But what if--”

 

“There _will_ be a next time,” Beca insisted, cutting through that palpable worry cloud surrounding the redheaded girl because she knew for a fact from now-Chloe that there would be more visits to the past, more experiences with younger Chloe she hadn’t had yet.

 

“You promise?” Chloe held out her pinkie, its fingernail painted pink.

 

“I promise.” Beca pushed to her feet and hooked her pinkie with Chloe’s before pulling her into a hug. She watched to make sure Chloe climbed back down safely and moved to the window, watching her walk back through the trees toward her house. Chloe stopped on the porch and waved at Beca once more, and Beca waved back, her heart clenching as it always had, but it was better this way. No matter how many times it happened, Chloe always got super freaked out when she was present for Beca’s traveling away; the look of anxious helplessness always traveled back to the present with Beca, leaving a dull apologetic ache in her chest because she couldn’t reassure past-Chloe she was okay.

 

Beca braced her arms against the treehouse window lip, a fond grin pulling on her face as the Beales bustled about their dining room, talking animatedly with smiles and laughter that echoed through their screened backdoor. It was five minutes later when Beca felt the telltale tingles in her toes, spreading up her calves and she stood straighter, closing her eyes and bracing herself to return to her present.

 

The half-eaten apple dropped to the treehouse floor with a soft thud, rolling to a stop against the fallen heap of flannel, denim, and empty boots.


	2. Familiar Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: Beca’s birthday is Sept. 22, so she only recently turned 19 here.

**September 28, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21  
Beca, age 19

“That new Treble _totes_ has a thing for you,” Chloe slurred at Beca, eyeing Jesse from across the party. Aca-initiation Night had been Beca’s first college party, and Chloe hoped she was able to let loose a little and have a good time. Chloe herself was four cups of jiggle-juice in and she and Tom had just finished up a round of dancing (with both bodies and tongue). 

 

“What?” Beca waited a beat, following Chloe’s eyes before shaking her head. “Oh, Jesse? We work together at the radio station. He doesn’t have a thing for me.” 

“IIIII beg to differ,” Chloe singsonged, tightening her steadying grip on Beca’s arm and leaning in. “I saw the way he was looking at you--and I heard him say you were gonna get married and have _aca-children_.” 

Beca wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, but he’s an idiot…”

“How do you know?” Chloe’s brow waggled and she leaned closer, bright blue irises alight with mischief. “Maybe you _do_ marry Jesse the Treble…” 

An expression of sheer panic morphed on Beca’s face, the small amount of pigment draining from her already pale skin. “Dude,” she sputtered. “What--you’re not serious, right?? Did older-me tell you that I--” 

Chloe cackled, unable to keep a straight face and burrowing into Beca, giggling against her neck (She meant to work on this personal space problem she had. Maybe someday.). “I’m kidding! I mean--I don’t know _for sure_ if you marry Jesse or not.” She lifted her head up, reaching out to boop Beca on the tip of her nose. “You do get married though! I worked that one out of you. I just don’t know who the lucky guy happens to be.” She leaned in yet again, whispering too loud to be an actual secret. “But it _could_ be Jesse!” 

A groan of relief escaped Beca. “You can’t say shit like that to me, y’know. I mean--it’s weird enough knowing I’m gonna get married. I didn’t really think I was the marrying type, to be honest…”

“What? Why? You’re the best!” 

Beca chuckled. “Thanks, Chloe. You’re biased. And drunk. And… I dunno. It’d be kinda shitty having me for a wife, disappearing sometimes and--” Her face fell as if she were about to reveal more about the difficult aspects of her traveling, but she pressed her lips together and shook her head instead. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t make me think I told you things I didn’t, okay? Or else older-me will travel back and screw with your head, too.” She shot Chloe a threatening glare that held no heat.

Chloe saluted her and giggled. “Sorry, sorry! Deal! And don’t write off Jesse yet, he’s cute! Just don’t let Aubrey know about it. She’s, like… two hundred percent serious about not sleeping with the enemy.” 

“I’m not scared of Aubrey,” Beca said. 

Chloe tightened her hold on Beca’s arm. “Okay, but… don’t tell her you’re not, okay?” She bit her lip. “Hey, wanna get outta here?” A breeze blew through the empty stadium and Chloe rocked on her heels.

An amused grin pulled at Beca’s lips. “Yeah, we probably should get you home. You’re swaying.” 

“Am not!” Okay, so the stars spun in the sky a little bit… whatever, she could totally hold her liquor. 

“Oh yeah? Would you like to let go of the death grip you’ve got on my arm and find out for sure?” 

“Mmm… nope!” Chloe stuck her tongue out at Beca. “Let’s go, Becs. Being co-captain means I’ve got my own room in the Bellas house and it is soooo aca-baller.” 

Chloe led Beca (or was it the other way around?) back through campus, the chilled night air swirling around them. It had been a busy first few weeks of the semester, and not just because of Bellas recruitment, auditions, and initiation, but because of her classes, too. She’d been dying to spend more one-on-one time with Beca, and though Tom seemed a little disappointed she’d slipped out early without him, Chloe didn’t give him a second thought. She ditched him for _Beca_ , after all--Beca, who’d continuously been there for her growing up, who always greeted her with a warm grin and a hug and offered to help her with her homework that wasn’t too hard. Beca, who listened to Chloe chatter on and on about school and music and dancing and family and friends and boys. Beca, who offered a shoulder to cry on when Chloe’s supposed ‘friends’ were mean to her or after a bad breakup, who offered advice and support in the sanctuary of her childhood treehouse. Beca was like her imaginary friend, but _real_. 

Chloe kept reminding herself that Beca didn’t exactly know her yet, but she would. Chloe would make sure that they’d turn into the best friends Beca always assured her they’d someday become. 

“So,” Chloe started on their walk back. “You held up your end of the bargain. What else do you wanna know about older-you?” 

Beca bit her lip, thinking on that for a moment. “I don’t know. I mean, I thought I wanted to know things… but what if you tell me something and I don’t like it? What if I make other choices that screw up whatever’s supposed to happen? I know I’m a mash-up, but--”

“A what?” Chloe blinked. “A mash-up?”

Beca lowered her head and laughed; Chloe could’ve sworn she saw a blush rising in her cheeks. “Yeah, like--okay, so most people live their lives start to finish, right? Birth to death. Like a song… you start with the opening notes and follow through how it’s meant to be heard--intro, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus… outro.” She shrugged. “Something like that, right? My life… it’s a mash-up. It’s--”

“Out of order,” Chloe supplied. “Or with other parts weaved in, like you were doing on your laptop the other day?”

Beca’s brow shot up and she glanced over at Chloe.

Chloe scrunched her nose in apology. “Your headphones were really loud, I heard some of it, but it sounded super awesome! You’re really talented!”

Beca flushed again. “Thanks. But yeah, that’s the idea. Taking pieces of songs, threading them together, and… creating one song out of the pieces. All the parts are there. They’re just… a different arrangement.”

“Which makes something even more beautiful,” Chloe supplied.

“Well, that depends… I’ve made some shitty mash-ups,” Beca said with a laugh. 

Chloe chuckled along with Beca but remained quiet for a few steps, the fresh air and lack of pulsing music and crowds helping to clear her head from that boozy haze. “You wouldn’t tell me much, you know. I’d ask you a million questions about the future, and you would give me hints here and there but nothing big. I think you were afraid of that same thing--somehow changing stuff if you heard something you didn’t like. 

“Hmm… sounds to me like older-me is pretty damn wise.” With a heavy sigh, Beca followed Chloe past the academic buildings, the dining hall, and they hung a right toward the residential area that held most of the on-campus houses. “Okay,” she said. “You gotta give me something, considering I joined your crazy acapella group in return for intel.” 

A bright laugh pulled from Chloe. “Okay, um…” She looked Beca over and spotted the headphones tattoo on her wrist. “Oh! This isn’t really a life spoiler alert or anything since I already told you you’re married when you’re older, but you get a wedding ring tattoo! You said you were tired of traveling and losing yours, so this way it stays with you.” 

Beca’s mouth fell open slightly. “Really?”

“What, that’s surprising? You’ve got a fair amount of ink already, you badass… I’ve seen you naked, remember? Like--more than once. Not on purpose, but it still totally counts.” Chloe winked.

Beca scoffed and reached back to rub the back of her neck. “The tattoo itself isn’t surprising, but the fact that I’d ink a wedding band on myself is pretty damn permanent. I’ve never liked anyone that much for that long…”

“Well clearly you marry someone who rocks your world forever. That’s exciting!” Chloe smirked. 

“What’s it look like? The tattoo… I mean, I’m always really particular about designs and stuff.”

“It’s plain,” Chloe said, holding up her left hand and running the tip of her index finger over where a wedding band would sit on her ring finger. “I only remember seeing the top of it, but it’s plain black.”

Beca cocked her head to the side. “Okay. Weird, but okay.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, I dunno…” Beca’s laugh tinged with discomfort. “it’s weird hearing about being married and getting a married-tattoo. And I’m a little disappointed I didn’t do something more clever, if it was a tat that meant something special.” She shrugged. “Whatever. Guess I had my reasons.” 

“Maybe you’re just soooo in love with your aca-husband Jesse you don’t care what your tattoo ring looks like…” Chloe giggled when Beca nudged her in reply, but it was too easy to tease. 

They reached the Bellas’ house and Chloe fumbled in her back pocket until she found her keys, lip caught in concentration as she worked the lock open and tugged Beca inside. She wound around the kitchen island and wrenched open the fridge to pull two water bottles, offering one up to Beca before twisting the cap of her own. After taking a few swigs, she took Beca’s hand and led her to her bedroom on the second floor. “Ta-da! Aca-awesome, right?” 

She kept her eyes trained on Beca as the younger girl scanned Chloe’s private space. A double bed with a white frame sat in the corner, her yellow Bellas scarf tied to the post by her nightstand, which also held a purple and gold betta fish swirling around in a little fishbowl. Overlapping movie and music posters lined the most exposed wall, the other boasted a large bay window where Chloe set up tied-back canary yellow curtains and colorful pillows in the window seat. A yoga mat stood propped against her desk, laptop currently closed beside a desk organizer featuring several different colored sharpies and pens, a corkboard hanging overhead with the Bellas’ rehearsal schedule marked clearly with little music notes. 

“Damn,” Beca said, letting out a low whistle as she shoved her hands into her pockets and took a few steps into the space. “This is really nice. Perks of being a senior in a nerdy singing sorority, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah, totes!” Chloe unzipped her boots and brushed past Beca to hop up onto the side of her bed. “Just think--someday you’ll be captain of the Bellas, and all this will yours!” She motioned around her head with a pointer finger before drinking more water. “Well, not Brucey.” She nodded toward her fish. “He’s mine. But the room, I mean…” 

Beca narrowed her eyes. “Someday I will be captain of the Bellas, or are you guessing?” 

Chloe grinned. “I don’t know that for a fact, but you’re so talented it’s pretty much inevitable.” Another warm wink rounded off her sentence. 

“We’ll see about that,” Beca said. “Keep hydrating. You feeling okay?”

“Psh, I’m a party pro. Are _you_ okay?” Chloe eyed Beca. “You were drinking, too.”

“Not that much,” Beca said, uncapping her water bottle and taking a sip. “I’m fine.” 

“Hey,” Chloe said, waving Beca closer. “Will you play me one of your mash-ups?” 

Beca hesitated before taking a few more steps to close the distance between them. “Okay, sure. Uh…” She set the water bottle down next to Bruce’s bowl and pulled out her phone, thumb-scrolling through her playlists. “Do you wanna hear something with a more poppy vibe, or maybe a little hip-hop or--” Beca cut herself off with a barely audible gasp. The steely eyes that lifted from the phone and settled on Chloe were the same resigned, steady eyes she’d seen dozens of times. 

The eyes of Beca leaving her. 

Chloe’s own popped wider and she scrambled to take Beca’s hand. “Beca… Beca, are you traveling??” That same panic flooded her system as it always had, seizing her chest as though vines squeezed around her heart. She hadn’t felt it since the last time Beca left her all those years ago, but the rush of anxiety curled around her body exactly the same way. “Wait--wait, Beca. Stay with me--” 

Beca set her phone beside Chloe and offered her a calm, reassuring grin, though Chloe noticed it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’ll be back, Chloe. I always come back.” 

“Okay, but--” Chloe tightened her grip on Beca’s hand as if trying to tether her against her, but it was no use; Beca disappeared a beat later, her clothes dropping to the floor in a heap by Chloe’s bed. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Chloe reached out to carefully pluck Beca’s assortment of earrings from the pile and set them on her nightstand. She folded Beca’s jeans, leaving her underwear rolled up inside because that definitely wasn’t her business (though curiosity did snake through her and trigger heat to rise in her cheeks), and added Beca's socks and shirt and bra to the now neatly folded pile beside her boots. She took Beca’s sweatshirt last, hugging it to her chest as she lowered herself back down to rest against her pillow. Closing her eyes and breathing in Beca’s scent, Chloe mind reeled with possibilities of where Beca traveled, and how long she’d be gone this time. 

****

 **September 22, 1997**  
Beca, age 19 // age 5

Throughout her life, Beca’s doctors had been stumped by her yet-unnamed condition. Neurologists, endocrinologists, psychiatrists… nobody had any answers, and after a late childhood and early adolescence filled with extended hospital stays for observations and what felt like hundreds of brain scans and a thousand blood draws, Beca pleaded with her parents to stop. She wanted to be a normal kid. Well, as normal as possible. Eventually, her parents agreed that the doctors had no idea how to help Beca stop traveling, and they were better off trying to handle it on their own. 

At age 19, here’s what Beca knew: Her traveling episodes were usually (though not always) triggered by high levels of stress or overwhelming emotion, and she usually (though not always) traveled to places where settings or people evoked strong memories. For instance, she’d never traveled to a random town in a random state, but sites of family vacations, family members’ homes, houses of old friends… she usually ended up in places like that.

Which is why, when her bare feet sunk into the fibers of a familiar contemporary-shag area rug, she breathed a sigh of relief because she knew exactly where she was: Her childhood home in suburban Seattle--her parents’ bedroom, to be specific, and as always, she crouched to assess her situation. Grey-blue eyes darted to the bathroom door, which stood ajar with the lights turned off. Confident she was the only person in the room, she scrambled over to her mom’s closet, grateful she grew to be about her same size. Beca found a pair of denim shorts and a black v-neck t-shirt, pulling them on quickly. She planned on hiding in the closet until she traveled back, and she sat beside the shoe rack for nearly twenty minutes, waiting.

Until she heard tense, raised voices downstairs.

Familiar yelling--the memory-dependent version of nails on a chalkboard filled her ears, and Beca cracked the bedroom door and grimaced as her parents’ snipes carried up the stairs.

_“We have fifty-eight people coming in under an hour, Robert. I asked you to do one thing for this party--one goddamn thing, and you couldn’t confirm the time for the caterer?”_

_“He’s a caterer! He shouldn’t have to have the damn time confirmed! And I didn’t do one thing--I researched magicians, didn’t I?”_

_“But you didn’t hire one!”_

_“I told you ten times, Eliza. They weren’t good enough and they were completely overpriced!”_

_“But there’s no entertainment for the kids! They’re four and five--what are they supposed to do for an hour and a half, sit around and stare at each other?”_

_“Will you relax? They’re kids! We’ll just have Beca and her little friends watch a movie. They’ll have fun.”_

_“A movie?? At a birthday party?? Oh, you are so out of touch, Robert. So painfully out of touch.”_

_“Oh screw you, Eliza.”_

_“Screw me? Oh, that sounds like a novel concept--you’d have to sleep in the same bed as me to pull that one off.”_

_“You--”_ Beca heard her dad’s voice change, strained yet forcibly softened. _“Beca, sweetheart, will you go outside and play on the swings while Mommy and I finish talking?”_

Beca froze, her heart hammering in her chest. Did they know she was there? She didn’t think she made any noise, and she’d always tried to keep herself hidden during travels, not wanting to inadvertently mess with anyone in the past. 

_“Thanks, Bec.”_

The telltale flapping of the screen door to the back porch followed, and curiosity got the better of Beca. She tiptoed down the staircase, skipping over the one she knew groaned under any weight, peering down into the living room. Her breath caught when she spotted the rainbow banner with ‘Happy 5th Birthday, Beca!’ hanging across the entertainment center in front of the couch. Bunches of balloons floated in strategically placed spots in the room, secured to sparkling weighted bases. They’d set out bowls of chips and pretzels and M&Ms on the coffee table. Despite the colorful decor, the entire house felt icy as her parents continued fighting in the kitchen, flinging scathing barbs back and forth that Beca knew carried through that door screen and into the backyard. 

Her chest clenched from the onslaught of powerful memories flooding back to her, feeling as though she were actually in one--and then, it hit her. She remembered this. She remembered flashes of her 5th birthday party, of overhearing the fight before--sitting on the swing as the angry voices echoed out into the yard. But a stranger had come up to her and--

Oh. Oh. It wasn’t a stranger at all. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

Beca ducked behind the couch, avoiding catching her parents’ attention as she slipped through her mom’s home office, snagging what she needed from her desk before carefully exiting through the backdoor. She gently closed the door behind her and made her way down the porch steps, her breath catching as she cautiously approached her younger self--the birthday girl, wearing a purple party dress with white shoes and a deep frown. She sat on the swing but remained still, clutching the chains and staring off into the distance, sniffling. 

“Hey, Beca,” she greeted, wrinkling her nose and offering a slight, awkward wave. “Happy birthday.”

The little kid version of herself snapped her attention onto her, not recognizing the older version of herself and tensing with caution. She’d been warned about stranger danger. 

“So, I’m not staying. I’m--uh, a cousin,” Beca lied, taking a few awkward steps toward her. “Hey, listen. I know--I know it sucks, when they fight like this. My mom and dad… they used to yell sometimes, too.” 

The five-year-old’s lip wibbled and she swallowed back the emotion that prickled. (19-year-old Beca felt that same strain in the back of her throat, easily recognizing the attempt to control those feelings firecrackers sizzling in her belly). “Mine fight _a lot_ ,” kid Beca mumbled, kicking her glossy white shoe into the grass and working up a pretty impressive spiteful grass stain her mother would no doubt chide her for.

She hadn’t traveled yet, at five. Her first travel happened a few years later, but it seemed pretty clear that life wasn’t much easier on her before the disorder turned her world upside down. Or--started jumping out of order. Whatever.

Beca knew there wasn’t really much she could say to her younger self to make her feel better. (She’d never been very good at comforting people, anyway--others’ emotions always seemed to elude her, make her stomach churn with discomfort). She couldn’t assure a five-year-old that her parents would eventually split up and ultimately find happiness with other people. The divorce would be painful for Beca, stressful. (It probably, in hindsight, triggered her first travel.) What she could do, though, was offer her an escape. “So…” Older Beca’s grin hitched wider. “Can I give you a birthday present?”

Her younger self eyed her suspiciously, and Beca bit back the amusement because she was always so damn slow to trust.

“Here,” Beca said, crouching in front of the swing and holding out her mom’s-- _their_ mom’s silver discman she snagged from her office on the way outside.

“This is Mommy’s,” young Beca whispered, her little brow crinkling with confusion as small hands gripped the portable music player with reverence.

“I know, but you should borrow it when you get sad. Music makes you feel better.” With a soft grin, Beca took the headphones and reached up to secure them over her younger self’s ears (unpierced all the way around, so far). 

“What song is it?” Young Beca asked, catching her lip between her teeth.

Beca blinked, a soft chuckle echoing between them. “Oh, crap. I didn’t check. Uh--” She popped the button on the side and peeked under the top, her lips pulling back into a grin. “Oh, sweet! The Fugees are dope.”

“The _Fugees?_ ” Her younger self let out a giggle at the silly name. 

“Yep. Mom--your Mom--her music taste doesn’t suck, so. I’m gonna play this, and you’re gonna sit and listen, and whatever’s going on in there--” Beca motioned to the house. “It’s just noise, okay? This,” Beca reached out and touched the side of those headphones, stormy eyes locking on a mirror version of the set in a younger body. “Music. This is what’s important. It’s--it’s your thing, and you’re gonna be okay. I promise.” 

Beca’s toes tingled with the telltale signs of her imminent return to her present. She hit the play button on the discman, the first few gentle croons of Lauryn Hill singing Killing Me Softly not too loud for her younger self’s ears, but loud enough for Beca to hear the opening notes. She watched as five-year-old Beca’s shoulders relaxed and she closed her eyes, letting the soothing strains of the song wash over her. 

Beca turned away and hurried to the garden shed, slipping inside before traveling back to 2011. 

****

Chloe’s room was dark when she landed back where she’d disappeared about an hour ago, the redhead’s soft snores echoing in a serene rhythm through the otherwise quiet room. Moonlight filtered in through the curtains, helping Beca’s eyes adjust enough to spot the now folded pile of clothes she’d left behind. She slid on her underwear and jeans, trying to not make any noise as she clasped her bra and pulled her shirt over her head. She searched around for her sweatshirt and blinked when she spotted it bunched up in Chloe’s arms. 

“Beca?” Chloe blinked blearily, her voice carrying in a sleepy rasp as she squinted through the dimness. “You’re back?”

“Yeah,” Beca whispered, her own voice thick with emotion from the heaviness of her travel. “Sorry I woke you.”

“S’okay,” Chloe said, reaching out for her. “Will you stay with me?” 

Beca blinked. “What? Here?” 

“Mhm.” Chloe scooted back toward her wall, pulling back the covers and patting the mattress next to her. 

Beca hesitated, raking a hand through her hair. It was late--Kimmy Jin would be pissed if she came back at this hour and woke her up. “Yeah, okay.” Wriggling out of her jeans again, she settled down on the space Chloe provided. “Thanks. For, uh--this, and my clothes and stuff--”

“S’no problem,” Chloe mumbled, slipping an arm around her middle and cuddling close. “‘Night, Bec.”

Relieved that Chloe didn’t ask where she went, Beca forced a deep inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth, willing her muscles to relax and not pull away from the embrace. She could’ve sworn she felt lips brush the exposed skin of her upper arm before Chloe’s breathing evened out once more. Beca swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “G’night, Chlo.”


	3. Dr. Ford

**October 24, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21  
Beca, age 19

Okay, so Chloe knew her new crop of Bellas weren’t exactly stage performance ready--their harmonies weren’t tight, their choreo needed _major_ work, and ever since the Riff-off, tensions ratcheted higher between Aubrey and Beca, specifically regarding their sound. Despite all of that, she’d hoped their magical, musical bond would smooth all of that out and they’d pull it together when it came time to sing for the Sigma Beta Theta annual fall mixer. And then…

_“This makes my beer taste bad.”_

Apparently winning smiles and looking cute in uniform wasn’t enough to override their pitch problems, out-of-sync movements, and general discomfort from some. Chloe’s mild freakout surprised nobody, and she apologized profusely to Colby, even though he was being kind of a jerk about it. 

But not as big of a jerk as Aubrey, who rounded on them at all. Upon her accusal of Chloe’s voice not sounding Aguilerian at all, she burst out with the secret she’d been keeping since her diagnosis late-summer. 

_“I have nodes.”_

Confessing it aloud proved both a relief (Chloe hated keeping secrets from the Bellas on principle) but also pulled her out of denial about the whole thing. Singing _hurt_ lately, but she loved the Bellas so much, it was totally worth postponing surgery until _after_ they won Nationals. It was her life goal, after all. 

Beca caught up with Chloe after the rest of the Bellas dispersed, most hanging their heads in shame from the combination of their sub-sub-par performance and Aubrey’s subsequent tongue lashing. “Hey,” she said, wincing as she worked to untie the yellow scarf from around her neck. “You okay?”

“That’s usually my line,” Chloe said with a sniffle, casting Beca a warm grin through watery eyes. “I’m…” She heaved a heavy sigh, schooling her features into a mask of determination. “Okay. We’ll be okay, Beca. We have a lot of work to do, but I _know_ we have the talent. It’s just about… finding what works for us, you know? And if everyone’s willing to put in the effort, I know we’ve got this.” She emphasized her point with a firm nod.

A teasing grin pulled on Beca’s lips. “Yeah. Totally. We’ll get there one way or another. But like, I meant… are _you_ okay. With, uh… the nodes thing, and Aubrey being a bitch to you again, and the mortification factor with your frat boy douchebag friends…” 

“Hey, they’re not all douchebags!” Chloe laughed despite herself, Beca’s _Beca-ness_ shooting nostalgic tingles up and down her spine. “Aubrey’s just stressed out. She and I are co-captains and we share the same goals.” She narrowed her eyes without much heat behind them, biting back a grin at Beca’s sudden brow arch. “And my nodes…” Chloe shrugged. “I’ll deal with them next summer, after I graduate. I’ve dealt with them for a while.”

“And you never told anyone?” Beca slid her hands down her sides and frowned. “Ugh, these uniforms suck, dude. Why don’t we have any pockets?” 

“Because we don’t stray from tradition, Beca! And tradition says no pockets allowed!” Chloe shot back, her shoulders spasming with a quiet burst of giggles. 

Beca snorted and rolled her eyes. “At least you admit Aubrey’s batshit crazy. _Anyway_ , you should’ve said something. About the nodes. If it’s serious, I mean, people need to know about it. We need to make sure you’re not overdoing it and stuff.” 

Chloe followed Beca back toward the freshman dorms without realizing it--she just didn’t want to end their conversation yet. She swirled an accusatory index finger in Beca’s direction. “I spy with my little eye a hypocrite.” 

“That’s different,” Beca muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “People can’t know about my thing. They’d… it’s too weird.” 

“The Bellas are family, Beca. I understand they’re new to you, but maybe it’d help… y’know, to have some more people who know what’s going on, who understand and can help? Maybe we can all start carrying around a Beca Bag.” 

Beca stopped dead in her tracks just before the entrance to Baker Hall. “What the hell is a _Beca Bag?_ ”

Chloe wrinkled her nose and sorted through the bags she’d had hitched over her shoulder. It wasn’t uncommon for Chloe to be traveling through campus like a pack-mule… she usually toted more than one bag slung over her shoulder or across her body--a satchel with books, a laptop case, a regular purse, a gym bag--but she patted a smaller, canary yellow backpack hanging from her shoulder. “Don’t freak out, okay? I thought this might be helpful in case you ever traveled back and needed… well, anything.” Chloe offered the bag to Beca to inspect. Inside, she’d packed a spare change of clothes (a v-neck t-shirt and shorts, socks, and Chloe’s spare sneakers that were a size and a half larger than Beca’s feet but would definitely work in an emergency). She also packed a small first aid kit with bandaids, Neosporin, and alcohol swabs.

Beca sifted through the bag, her cheeks flushing deeper with each passing moment. When she finally looked back up to Chloe, she was nothing short of stunned. “Chloe…”

“I know it’s kind of extreme,” Chloe said, scrunching up her face in an apologetic smile. “But I figured… well, even if it works out to help you one time, it’s worth it.” 

She hadn’t seen that level of emotion expand in Beca’s typically steely (in hue and in hardness) eyes--not since they had a few charged conversations in Chloe’s teenaged years. But it would only confuse Beca to remind her of something she hadn’t yet experienced, so she settled for flashing her a sheepish grin instead while Beca continued to process the bag, offering it back to Chloe. 

“This is--you don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I want to,” Chloe insisted. “I know you’re still getting to know me and everything, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re my best friend and always have been.” She hurried up the steps to the front doors of Baker Hall. “C’mon, let’s get you out of this terrible pocketless pencil skirt.”. She held open the door and when Beca approached, the younger girl took her wrist. Chloe stalled, her heart skipping a beat at the sudden gesture; she’d always been the more physical one of the two of them, especially since they reunited in the present, and Chloe turned back to Beca with a question in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Beca said, gratitude shining in her steady gaze. “Really. Thanks. And I… I should probably tell you it’s been, um… happening with more frequency lately. Since I started here. It’s probably stress-related, y’know… I’ve always been kinda shitty with adjusting to changes.”

Chloe’s expression softened and she stepped back up to Beca, taking her hand after Beca loosened her grip on her wrist. She wasn’t getting away from her that easily. Imploring eyes watched Beca’s face for a moment. “How much more?”

Beca blew out a puff of air. “Almost weekly. They’re not--they’re quicker travels, usually, and so far I’ve managed to duck out of sight when it’s happened so I didn’t freak anyone out by disappearing in front of them, but…” She bit her lip. “I was gonna be on time to auditions, you know. I didn’t--mean to make any sort of statement, coming out late, and I was so fucking frazzled I forgot all the words to Since You’ve Been Gone.” 

Chloe’s brow shot up, remembering how Beca had slipped onstage seconds before Aubrey was about to call auditions a wrap. Aubrey had, of course, been completely unimpressed with Beca’s ‘lack of professionalism’ but Chloe simply thought Beca had been apprehensive, or maybe even a little nervous. “Where--where were you?” 

“Lake Union,” Beca said with a shrug. “Luckily for only an hour, nobody was around since it was after summer season. I hid between two bushes, traveled back here with only enough time to throw some clothes on and run over. And when I was late to rehearsal the other day and Aubrey made me run extra laps around the auditorium…”

Chloe bobbed her head slowly, processing the information with an empathetic squeeze on Beca’s hand. “That’s why it’d be good to tell the girls, but I understand why you don’t want to. I promise, Beca--I won’t tell them or anyone unless you ever want me to.”

“I know,” Beca said. “And I appreciate it. But it’s kinda nice feeling sorta normal. Not being the weirdo outcast or the freak of the group…”

“We’re all weirdo outcasts, if you haven’t noticed,” Chloe shot back fondly. 

Beca snorted. “Yeah. But I really do think it’s an adjustment thing. It’ll settle out, start happening less frequently again.”

“I think you should go see Dr. Ford.” Chloe hadn’t meant to blurt out that suggestion, and she hoped Beca wouldn’t be mad if she’d overstepped.

But Beca only furrowed her brow in confusion. “Okay, but like… that’s the doctor I see when I’m older, right? What if he doesn’t know what _Chrono-Impairment_ is yet?”

“What if _she_ doesn’t know until you show up,” Chloe countered with a slight lift of her shoulders. “All I know is that she’s a geneticist who helps you a lot. So she must meet you at some point. Why not now?”

Beca glanced around the entryway of Baker Hall to make sure nobody approached while she considered Chloe’s suggestion. “I don’t really like doctors, Chlo. Growing up, they’ve never been able to figure me out, and I spent too many shitty days getting needles jabbed in my arms and lying in those brain scan machines and I’d really rather gouge my eyeballs out with spoons instead of go through all that shit again…”

“But it’s Dr. Ford. Even if she doesn’t help you _now_... she’ll help you eventually. I know it, remember? _You_ told me this.” She waited a beat before adding, “Do you think your dad’ll wanna go with you?”

“Absolutely not,” Beca said. “I mean, yeah. He’ll want to, of course, but I don’t want him to. I’m so damn tired of filling him and mom with false hopes that I’ll get better. Cured. Whatever.” She sighed. “I’ll think about it, okay? But I’m not gonna tell my parents. Perks of being over 18, I don’t have to.”

“I’ll go with you,” Chloe piped in. “You shouldn’t do this stuff alone, y’know? And I wanna help!” 

Beca’s eyes flickered down to that yellow Beca Bag before she reached up and raked a hand through her hair, pulling it out of its low Bellas performance bun and shaking out the stiffness with her fingers. “Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna bother me about it until I agree? Fine, whatever. Just don’t expect a miracle, okay?”

Chloe’s lips twisted into a triumphant smirk. “That’s the spirit!”

****

As luck would have it, Dr. Ford practiced as a fertility doctor less than an hour from Barden’s campus.

“A fertility doctor, Chlo?? You realize I have to call my primary and ask for a referral. I’m not asking for a referral for a fertility specialist.”

“Obviously! But we’ve gotta get an appointment with Dr. Ford, so you’re gonna call and ask for a referral, and I’m gonna go with you and we’re gonna pretend like we’re an adorable couple exploring options for having a baby together.”

Beca’s eyes blew wide. “Wait, _what??_ ”

Chloe cackled, shoving Beca’s shoulder with her own. “Oh my god, you are so easy. Just make the appointment, Becs. They won’t grill you over the phone.”

“I hate the phone,” Beca grumbled, but she wrenched her phone from her back pocket and searched for her primary doctor’s phone number with a bit more _umph_ in her thumb punch against her screen than entirely necessary. 

It took two more weeks for an open appointment slot to open with Dr. Ford. Chloe sat in the waiting room lined with pictures of “miracle babies” framed with their birthdates, grinning at the couple in the room, who were smiling ear-to-ear and both had a hand settled protectively over the woman’s slightly protruding stomach. 

Beca, seemingly oblivious to the couple in the room, scrawled furiously on the intake forms beside her, grumbling under her breath. “They’re gonna think I’m here to get pregnant, Chlo,” she mumbled, shaking her head as she checked off boxes. “Uh… When the hell was my last period?” 

Chloe’s lips quirked in amusement. “If you don’t know, maybe we _are_ in the right place,” Chloe teased. “Figured you’d wait a little on the aca-children making, though.” 

“Seriously? Don’t make me regret bringing you here.” Beca nudged her side with her elbow and muttered a few more barely comprehensible swears under her breath. She finished the rest of the paperwork hastily (a little too hastily--Chloe suspected she skipped entire sections, especially after Beca muttered a ‘ _that’s none of your business, dude_ ’ and scratched her pen through one of the lines). Beca marched back to the receptionist window and handed back the paperwork still wedged in the clipboard, returning to flop back down into the seat with a huff. She fiddled with her thumb ring and her knee wouldn’t stop bouncing, just like it had that first day she met Chloe in the cafe. 

“Hey,” Chloe said, reaching out to settle her hand over Beca’s knee. “It’s all gonna be okay. I promise.”

Beca sniffed. “I hate doctors,” she grumbled. 

Chloe couldn’t help but find it all adorable, though she’d never say that aloud, and also, she was _excited_ to meet Dr. Ford. Older Beca had always spoken so highly of her doctor, and Chloe truly hoped this would start Beca on a path to some answers, if not peace of mind of knowing she had a medical professional who had her back.

“They’re so cute, honey,” the woman in the waiting room said to her husband, her voice carrying across the small space. “Aren’t they a sweet pair?”

Beca blinked, her jaw falling slack. “Oh, no, we’re just--”

“Flattered!” Chloe leaned in and placed an obnoxious kiss on Beca’s cheek. “Thank you! And congratulations!”

They beamed back at Chloe, the man speaking up next. “Thanks. We’ve been trying to get pregnant for five years. Dr. Richards is incredible, if you’re here to see him.”

Chloe shook her head. “We’re here for Dr. Ford, but that’s such wonderful news, you guys. Best of luck to you with all of it.”

Beca narrowed her eyes at Chloe, as if she were working out a super complex math problem written on her forehead. “Why are you like this?”

Chloe’s bright smile didn’t dim an ounce. “Like what?’

“Like--” Beca pointed her finger at Chloe and ran it up and down in an imaginary line. “ _This_.” It was possible even Beca didn’t know what she meant, let alone how to verbalize it.

“Well,” Chloe started, fondness still pulling on her lips. “When you figure out what _this_ is, maybe I’ll have an answer for you. But, you know--there’s a likely answer,” Chloe said, leaning closer. Beca stared hard back at her but didn’t flinch at the personal space bubble intrusion this time. “I’m like this because… of… my…” She flashed Dr. Ford’s pamphlet an inch from Beca’s nose. “ _Genetics!_ ” 

Beca rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Chloe could tell she was biting her lip to stop herself from grinning, but she knew it was there, lurking beneath the surface. “You’re a mutation,” Beca mumbled, loud enough for only Chloe to hear. 

“ _You’re_ a mutation!” Chloe shot back, because she was totes the mature one. “A tiny, adorable, grumpy one.” 

Beca opened her mouth to retort when the door next to the receptionist’s desk swung open and a nurse holding a clipboard looked right at them. “Beca Mitchell?”

The flustered redness drained from Beca’s face and Chloe felt her stiffen beside her. Taking her cue, Chloe gently rested her arm on Beca’s elbow and urged her up out of the chair. “It’ll be fine! We’re just meeting Dr. Ford, it’s gonna be great!” Did Chloe have solid evidence for that? No. But she had the knack of being so over-the-top optimistic sometimes that she was sure some of that force willed things into being.

The nurse ushered Beca and Chloe through a narrow hallway with rooms on each side while flipping through Beca’s chart. Chloe noted (as Beca likely had too judging by the color draining from her face with each peek inside the open doors) that these rooms all appeared to be exam rooms set up for a gynecological exam, stirrups and all. 

“In here, please. Dr. Ford will be with you as soon as possible.” The nurse pushed the door open to reveal a regular looking office--no exam table, no stirrups and a tray of metal probing tools, but a desk with a computer and an appointment book and a notebook and two armchairs on either side. 

“C’mon, have a seat, Becs,” Chloe urged her gently, watching Beca flood with relief to flop down into an actual chair and not have to do any sort of medical stuff. “This is just a consultation, remember? It’s a meeting.” 

“Right,” Beca croaked, her voice breaking on the single syllable. 

Dr. Ford swept into the room moments later, yellow-blonde hair slicked back into a low bun as she flipped through Beca’s chart, her white coat billowing behind her. “Good afternoon,” she said politely, and Chloe was struck by how _young_ she looked. She could’ve passed as Aubrey’s older sister. “I’m Dr. Katherine Ford, and…” She sat behind her desk and flashed both of them a polite grin. “Which one of you is Rebecca?” 

Beca raised her hand a few inches. “Me, hey, that’s me. I’m Beca. This is Chloe,” she said, flinging a thumb toward her. 

“Welcome, Beca and Chloe. And…” Dr. Ford narrowed her eyes slightly as her gaze flickered down to Beca’s chart. “It says here that you’re here for an LGBT family planning consultation but I noticed you left half of the intake paperwork blank…” She let that linger, raising a quirked eyebrow.

Beca cleared her throat. “Yeah. So. We’re not here for that. I didn’t… I wasn’t sure how else to get a meeting with you, but, uh… I need to meet you, because you’re the one who works with me and my Chrono-Impairment.”

Dr. Ford blinked slowly, folding her hands on top of the clipboard flat on her desk. “I’m sorry, I don’t--Chrono-Impairment?”

“That’s what you call it. In the future.” Beca glanced over to Chloe, who nodded with encouragement. Beca blew out a hard breath. “I have a condition that makes me travel through time. So I know we haven’t met _yet_ , but Chloe’s my best friend and we just met, like, two months ago, but older-me has been traveling back to visit younger-her for basically her whole life, and so that’s why now-Chloe knows who you are and older-me told younger-her that you’re my doctor and you help me a lot.”

Dr. Ford stared at Beca as though she spontaneously grew a second head. “I--” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, this is…” A soft, disbelieving chuckle escaped and she glanced toward the door as though someone were listening in. “I don’t mean to be rude, but am I getting punk’d?” 

Beca snorted. “My whole life is getting punk’d.” 

Chloe offered a polite smile. “Please, Dr. Ford. We know this sounds crazy, but it’s true. In the future, you’ll research Beca’s condition and help her handle it. I read your article on stem-cell regeneration and your assertion that injured adult tissue cells can time-travel back to a fetal state.”

Beca shot Chloe a surprised look, and Chloe only grinned harder. “We know this is a lot to take in, but you’re the one who helps Beca.”

“That was a theoretical research article, I haven’t actually encountered…” Dr. Ford pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering to herself. “Wow, and you--you’ve seen specialists before, Beca?”

“Yeah. Psychiatrists, neurologists, endocrinologists…”

“But not a geneticist?”

Beca shook her head. “I didn’t let my parents take me anywhere else after the sixth hospital stint. Got tired of being a fucking pincushion.”

Dr. Ford’s head bobbed in a slow nod. “So… why now?” She leaned forward slightly. “Why are you here?”

“Because,” Beca started, leaning her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward. “I know for a fact you’re the real deal because Chloe doesn’t lie to me, and I know I’m not gonna waste my time--” She rolled her eyes. “No pun intended. I just… I wanna manage this shit better, because I just started college and I’ve been traveling a lot more lately and I don’t want it to fuck with my life more than it already does.”

The doctor continued glancing back and forth between Beca and Chloe, eventually sharing an empathetic grin. “I want to help you. I really do, Beca, but I don’t think--I’m a fertility doctor. I help women have babies. I published that paper Chloe referenced on a post-doc research study with a colleague of mine because I found it fascinating, but I don’t _do_ that sort of thing...”

“But you specialize in genetics counseling, don’t you?” Chloe countered gently.

“Not--not _yet_ , but I’d considered maybe someday--I do enjoy the research aspect, but--”

Beca shook her head and shot to her feet. “Chlo, this was stupid. She’s not ready to help me. Let’s stop wasting her time--”

“No, please,” Dr. Ford stood and held up her hands. “If this is real, I’d like to help. I’d like to try, at least… learn more about your case. If you’ll let me.”

Beca tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, yeah… that’s kind of why I’m here.”

“She’s totes not here to have babies yet,” Chloe piped in with a teasing wink. 

Dr. Ford smiled. “Okay then. I suppose we can get started.” 

“Awesome!” Chloe jumped up and reached across Dr. Ford’s desk to shake her hand. “Thank you, this is great.”

“Yeah, great,” Beca muttered. “You’re not the one who’s gotta be the pincushion.” She followed Chloe’s example and reached out to shake Dr. Ford’s hand, too. 

“Good news, Beca,” Dr. Ford said, shaking both of their hands without hesitation before picking up a transparent tube with a sterile stick sporting a gauze tip inside. “I’ll only need a cheek swab to start, no pincushioning necessary at this point.” 

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, nudging Beca. “See? Told you this was a good idea.” 

Beca shot Chloe a skeptical look, but she waited for Dr. Ford to slip on a pair of latex gloves and unscrew the tube. She opened her mouth and submitted to the brief cheek swab anyway, making Chloe’s insides sing with hope and affection because despite all of the hesitation, Beca trusted her.

After the quick and painless cheek swab, they arranged for another appointment to review the results of the genetic panel. For the remainder of the appointment, Beca answered Dr. Ford’s questions with transparency, speaking at length about her life as a traveler. When their time drew to a close, Beca seemed much more relaxed as opposed to when they arrived. 

Chloe thanked the doctor once more, picked up her Beca Bag, and led Beca out of Dr. Ford’s office.


	4. Hard Truths

**November 4, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21  
Beca, age 19

“Remember when I said nothing could be worse than vertical running?” Fat Amy panted next to Chloe as she, along with many of the other Bellas, struggled to hold the deep stretch of the eighth stretching pose of the morning. “I was seriously wrong.” 

“C’mon, ladies! Let’s see those fierce warrior poses!” Aubrey led the pack, her yoga mat laid out in front and center of the two rows of other mats in their rehearsal space. “Deeper lunges girls, feel that burn. Arms up higher, Cynthia Rose!”

“Yoga is some crazy-ass white shit,” the pink-haired alto muttered behind Chloe, and she caught Beca’s nod in agreement on her other side. “I’m barely moving but I’m sweating so damn much.”

“It’s supposed to be relaxing!” Chloe piped, flashing the girls around her an encouraging smile. Bellas yoga had been her idea, after all, and she’d pitched it to Aubrey as both a bonding activity and workout combined. Especially since so many of them seemed to struggle with cardio. What she didn’t tell Aubrey, however, was her ulterior motive for the switch-up in their group exercise routine. Dr. Ford met with Beca for her second appointment and suggested a few breathing exercises while she worked after-hours to study her traveling condition on a cellular level. After their meeting, she and Beca agreed it seemed likely that her uptick in traveling had been triggered by stress, so Dr. Ford suggested she find ways to keep herself relaxed whenever possible. When Beca relayed this information to Chloe, Chloe of course came up with a plan. 

Yoga had always done wonders to lower Chloe’s stress levels, and despite Beca’s grunting and groaning beside her, she hoped she’d feel nice and loose after their session, too. 

“This sucks,” Beca grumbled through gritted teeth, struggling with keeping her back straight enough. 

Chloe mostly bit back her grin. “Really? All that under your breath cursing totes had me thinking you were loving this,” she teased. “It helps if you try to keep your eyes forward and your chin up,” Chloe added. 

“It’d help if Aubrey stopped being a fucking drill sergeant every second of her life,” Beca snapped back, puffing out a heavy breath of air. 

“Hey, give it a chance. Dr. Ford said--”

“I know what Dr. Ford said, Chlo. I told you what she said, remember? I didn’t say yoga was the answer.”

Chloe offered a sympathetic smile. “It’s always difficult at first, but you’re doing great. It’s almost over, then you’ll take a nice hot shower and feel more relaxed than ever.”

“Or,” Beca countered. “Instead of yoga, I can just go hit up one of the High Notes for some--”

“New position, ladies! Let’s try a downward dog!” Aubrey demonstrated by straightening her legs and settling both palms on the ground in front of her, walking them out so her body formed an upside-down V shape. 

The rest of the girls followed suit, some quiet and focused, others swearing at Aubrey under their breath. 

“Nice ass, Mitchell,” Stacie cooed from behind Beca, a low whistle following the compliment. 

Cynthia Rose chuckled next to Stacie. “Yeah, not bad, short stack.” 

Beca shot them a deadly glare and a middle finger over her shoulder.

Amy nodded toward her from her bent-over position. “D’you want me to cropdust them for you, Beca? ‘Cause I’ve been holding one in and it’s locked and loaded…”

“If I didn’t also have to suffer through that mushroom cloud of death I’d say go for it,” Beca mumbled. 

“Keep breathing, ladies. We’re almost through the session.” Chloe hoped the light at the end of the tunnel would help the girls refocus on the stretching poses. 

“Well done, Jessica,” Aubrey called. “Ten more seconds, feel that burn--nine, eight, seven, six--great focus, Ashley--three, two, aaand…. Let’s reposition into a bridge.” Leading by example, Aubrey slowly rolled up from her downward dog and lowered herself to sit toward the middle of her mat. She extended her arms palm-down by her sides and bent her knees, feet planted shoulder-width apart. “And… we push up from our heels, hold that bridge.” 

“Oh hell yeah, this is one of my faves,” Stacie said, tossing Chloe a salacious wink while Cynthia Rose chuckled beside her. 

Chloe grinned but rolled her eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Stace,” she called back to her, casting another glance over at Beca, who seemed to be struggling with her bridge. 

“I don’t bend this way,” Beca declared, her face screwed up in concentration. 

“Yes you do. Here, let me--” Chloe lowered her own bridge and rolled onto her knees next to Beca, reaching out to slip both hands beneath her back. “I’ll help you support it, push up through your heels. It’s a super great core strengthening exercise!” 

She half-expected Beca to flip her off, too. Instead, Beca sighed and followed as instructed, grimacing at the strain of her muscles during that spinal contraction. 

“Impressive bridges, Bellas!” Aubrey called out to them, smiling fully. Working out always seemed to improve Aubrey’s mood.

Beca’s, not so much.

“Okay, girls, we’re going to cool down in child’s pose.” Aubrey demonstrated, shifting back onto her knees and tucking down into a ball, reaching both hands out in front of her. “Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” 

A quiet settled over their sacred rehearsal space as everyone worked to lower their heart rates and cool their bodies. A peaceful calm settled over the group, until… the unmistakable stench crept into Chloe’s nostrils and she grimaced, shaking her head. “Oh my god, Amy…”

“Dude, that’s fucking rancid,” Beca’s hand flew to plug her nose as she coughed. The other girls followed suit, some pulling their sweaty collars up over their nose and groaning.

“My apologies everyone. I couldn’t hold it any longer,” Amy confessed, waving her arm around in a lame attempt to disperse the fart cloud. 

Aubrey rolled up her yoga mat and shot to her feet. “That wasn’t completely terrible considering it was the first time for most of you. Hit the showers, girls. We’ll reconvene after dinner. Chloe, a word?” 

Chloe’s attention snapped back to Aubrey from Beca and she grinned. “One sec, Bree!” She hastily rolled up her yoga mat before helping Beca, Cynthia Rose, and Amy with theirs. “You guys did awesome! Really, don’t get discouraged. The more you practice, the better it feels.” 

The newer Bellas gathered their bags and mats and headed out of the auditorium, and Chloe waited for Aubrey so the captains could leave together. “That was great, Bree. I feel super centered and ready to take on the day.” 

“We have so much work to do to whip these girls into shape for regionals,” Aubrey said, determination shining in her eyes as she watched their pack from a short distance behind them. She chugged a few swigs from her water bottle and held open the door for Chloe.

“Totes, and we’ll get there. You’re doing amazing and everything’s gonna pay off.” Chloe flashed Aubrey a beaming grin before looking back out to the group, who’d shuffled through the double doors of the Barden Performing Arts building. A crisp autumn chill breezed against her sweaty skin, providing instant cooling relief. Seriously, it would take something big to kill her positivity after an aca-mazing yoga session.

Like spotting Jesse the Treble leaning against the side of the building with a backpack slung over his shoulder, wearing his maroon Treblemakers zip-up sweatshirt, his big brown eyes and goofy-adorable lopsided grin locked on Beca. As if he were waiting for her. 

Chloe sucked in a sharp breath and watched as Beca’s steps faltered as though she were just as surprised, but she hitched her bag higher over her shoulder and approached him, saying something that made him smile harder. 

“They’re definitely aca-boning,” Aubrey mused aloud, her narrowed gaze locked onto the pair.

“They’re not!” Chloe shot back, though she couldn’t totally be sure at this point. Still, she’d always defend Beca to Aubrey, just as she always tried to defend Aubrey to Beca. Her two best friends might never see eye-to-eye, but she was determined to keep the peace as best as she could. “They’re just friends. They work together at the radio station.”

Aubrey snorted. “C’mon, Chloe. You’re not that naive, are you? Beca’s toner is completely distracting.” She kept her chin up. “Someday I’ll have evidence, and then we can put a nail in that coffin.”

“Bree, please. Beca’s a Bella, even if she and Jesse were--involved--” Chloe ignored the sudden tightness in her chest, waving her hand. “--which they’re not, but it wouldn’t matter if they were because we can’t afford to lose members at this point.” Especially not Beca, whose talent for music blew Chloe away and always had. Well--not that Beca ever opened up much about her career, but she’d heard her sing a couple times when she was younger, and there was no denying the power of that voice. 

Aubrey’s laser-focus settled on Chloe’s profile. “You’re different this year,” she said, her tone somewhat softer, but the opinion carried heavy weight.

The accusation wrenched Chloe from her reverie and she turned to Aubrey more fully, cocking her head to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m different this year how?”

“You’re different. You’re slower to reply to my texts, you’re more skittish and on-edge like… like you’re waiting for something terrible to happen all the time.” 

Chloe bit her lip and shook her head. “Bree--it’s our senior year. We’re both under a lot of stress, remember? And not just with Bellas stuff.” 

“And you’re kind of obsessed with Beca.”

An indignant gasp tore through Chloe’s throat and she rounded on her co-captain. “Don’t say that, Aubrey.” 

“What? It’s true. You think I haven’t noticed how preoccupied you are with her? Ever since you saw her at the Activities Fair, the extra attention you give her whenever we’re rehearsing with everyone, and I totally saw her slip out of your room the morning after the Hood Night Party, I just didn’t say anything.”

Chloe’s jaw fell slack and her eyes watered as though Aubrey slapped her. “Bree, it’s not--it’s nothing like that,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment first, and then with frustration. Aubrey should’ve said something sooner if she had concerns. She shouldn’t assume things about her or Beca or anyone. Chloe’s grip tightened on her water bottle. “You don’t even know--she’s dealing with a lot, okay? I’m trying to be a supportive friend.”

Aubrey huffed. “Well, Chloe, in case you forgot, Beca’s not your only friend who needs your support.” She took another swig of water and slammed her free hand over the top to close it with more force than necessary. “I’ll see you at rehearsal tonight. Maybe remind your new best friend what time it starts so she’s not late again.” 

Chloe stood rooted to the spot, wiping a tear from her cheek as she watched Aubrey storm off in one direction while Beca fell into step beside Jesse, walking away from her in the other direction.

****

**November 19, 2005**  
Beca, age 24  
Chloe, age 15

“Motherfucker,” Beca grumbled when her bare feet hit a patch of crunchy, frosted leaves. She crouched in the woods and immediately began shivering, goosebump-prickled arms wrapping around her upper body as her teeth chattered. Luckily, she recognized the Beale family treehouse not too far away. Beca hurried toward the familiar shelter, her mind still reeling from the conversation that likely triggered her travel--her boss being a total douchebag and once again cutting her off at the knees with the track she’d been working on. 

“Why the fuck do I even bother?” Beca huffed, her exhale swirling in an icy mist in the air in front of her. Craving the warmth of clothing and protection from the elements, she staggered closer to the tree, mumbling under her breath about not being heard, not being listened to, not being appreciated or valued. She’d been a puppet for that label ever since she started, and she was nearing the end of the rope. Especially after she met her newest client. “Seriously, Lil’ Pimp-Lo? Bend Over is the best you’ve got??”

She spotted a majestic-horned buck lingering by the thick-trunked tree, staring at Beca with a curious expression. Beca glared back, shivering as she reached up and took hold of the treehouse ladder. “What the fuck are you looking at, buddy? Not all of us have natural fur coats. Must be nice for you.” Okay, so the deer didn’t deserve her wrath, but she unfortunately (or fortunately, maybe, considering she didn’t want to get fired yet…) didn’t have her boss there to snipe at.

By the time she reached the treehouse entrance, she could barely feel the tips of her fingers and toes. Staggering toward the makeshift coffee table, she opened the old costume trunk and retrieved the clothes Chloe had left for her, willing her shivering fingers to cooperate as she worked to pull on and button Ryan’s jeans and long-sleeved shirt. She jammed her feet into the boots and left them untied, knowing she needed to warm them up first and foremost. Beca peered back into the trunk and breathed a sigh of relief to find a knitted blanket. “Hell yeah. Way to come in the clutch, Chlo,” Beca muttered to herself, yanking the blanket out and hastily wrapping it around her body as she settled on the corner of the couch, curling up into a ball as she worked to raise her body temperature. 

Traveling in late fall or winter fucking sucked, always. 

Speaking of Chloe--she’d been too desperate for reprieve from the cold to take notice of the notches on the tree, so she wasn’t exactly sure what year she’d traveled back to. She didn’t bother putting the yellow flag out of the window because she wasn’t in the mood to socialize with past-Chloe, mostly due to her shitty mood stemming from her work-related drama but also because things with now-Chloe were fucking weird lately. Her own work stress plus Chloe’s vet school application stress had been a recipe for snippiness and baseless arguments between them, and it was bad enough they never had any actual privacy and still shared a single damn pull-out bed…

“Beca?” Younger Chloe’s voice carried up the ladder as footsteps followed. The knock at the door only barely preceded that door flinging open as Chloe popped her head in with a smile. “You’re here! I thought I saw something moving around in the window.”

Beca craned her neck to blink back at Chloe--teenaged Chloe, with her braces removed and standing at what appeared to be her maximum height, long hair flowing out from beneath a navy blue beanie that set off her eyes. “So you just sit at your kitchen table and stare out of the window in case I pop in? Don’t you have better things to do?” 

“Pretty much! I mean, I do homework at that table, so I’ve gotta sit there anyway…” Chloe laughed and closed the door behind her, striding farther into the treehouse and flopping onto the couch beside Beca. She wore a grey peacoat with dark jeans and her yellow hightop converse--something Beca learned became something of a Chloe Beale trademark, along with that wink she’d grown to love over the years. “You look cold, are you okay?” Before Beca could respond, Chloe wrenched the knitted beanie off her head and leaned forward to pull it over Beca’s, covering her ears.

“Seriously, I’m fine--”

Unconvinced, Chloe tugged her scarf from her coat and wrapped it around Beca’s neck, covering her nose and mouth as she did so. “There! That should help warm you up. Oh!” Tugging her newer, forest green backpack onto her lap, Chloe fished out a thermos and offered it to Beca. “It’s just Campbell’s--I made it myself--but I thought it’d help.”

“Thanks, Chlo.” Hands emerged from Beca’s blanket burrito to accept the soup, unscrewing the top and shoving the scarf down so she could sniff the steaming liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

“Yep!” Chloe eyed her in that same way she always did. “Twenty...six?”

“Twenty-four,” Beca corrected with a grin, bringing the thermos to her lips and taking a sip. The soup warmed her from the inside, and her heart fluttered with more gratitude for her best friend. “I missed the tree. What are you, sixteen?”

“Fifteen, but thanks!” Chloe tossed Beca that same wink, though this time, Beca immediately squashed the association with older Chloe’s winks. Teenaged Chloe had the unfortunate effect of making Beca feel like a perv sometimes, and she knew she had to be extra careful with compartmentalizing her thoughts--especially since she’d grown to recognize the nature of those thoughts with her current Chloe, aged 27 years. 

Ugh, this traveling shit had to get more complicated, didn’t it?

“So how’s school?” There. 

“Well…” Chloe pulled her own thermos--Beca assumed it contained the same soup--and unscrewed its lid. “I aced my geometry test today, I’m reading Lord of the Flies in lit right now which is, like, suuuuper dark, right? Oh! I decided to tryout for the lacrosse team in the spring, and I made the select choir!”

“Of course you did,” Beca said, beaming with pride. “That’s awesome, Chlo. Congrats.” She raised her thermos in a toast before taking another sip. 

“Thanks!” She tucked her legs up to the side as she settled back on the couch. “Soooo how are things with you?” That casual question carried so innocently, but Beca knew the look in those bright blue eyes--the hunt for information for the future, the desire to know more about Beca in general, things she’d always kept close to the chest. Only older Chloe hadn’t given up; if anything, she’d been trying harder to weasel information. 

With a heavy sigh, Beca shrugged. “Kinda stressful, to be honest. Work’s been really pissing me off lately.” It was hard sometimes, not to talk to teenaged Chloe as though she were a little older than she was. Chloe had always been her person to vent to, and especially now lately, with this weird sort of invisible wall-of-whatever between them Beca knew she’d have to face at some point soon, she yearned for when things were simpler between them. When they could have conversations like this without that undercurrent of more-than-friendly vibes. 

Chloe’s eyes popped wider, likely because Beca always offered conciliatory, neutral responses to the ‘how are you?’ type questions before. “Really? What’s--what’s happening?” Her lip caught between her teeth.

Beca shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. It’s--my boss doesn’t totally trust me and it’s frustrating.”

Chloe’s head bobbed in an empathetic nod. “Well they totally should because you’re smart and awesome.” She hesitated before adding, “If you wanna tell me… more… about what you do, that’d be cool. I don’t think it’d mess things up in the future…”

Beca offered an apologetic grin. “You know I work in the music industry, that’s probably more than I should’ve told you. Really, the details are pretty boring.” 

“I think working in the music industry sounds amazing! I love music--do we work there together?” Chloe gasped. “Oooh, are we a famous pop-duo like Aly & AJ??” 

An inelegant snort passed Beca’s lips. “You’re hilarious.” She took another sip. “Tell me more about what’s up with you. Is Rachel still being a bitch to you?” 

Chloe huffed, still sore about not being able to pull any information from Beca, but she shook her head. “No, we’re good now! That was a couple months ago, that fight--we’re back to being BFFs. And…” Her grin twisted. “I have a boyfriend!”

Beca blinked, her brow shooting up to her hairline. “You--what?”

“Have a boyfriend! His name’s Eric and he’s a junior. He’s sooo cute and he plays football and we’ve been going out for three weeks.” Chloe tugged up her sleeve and flashed a gel-pen doodle where she’d drawn a cursive Eric + Chloe Forever in a pink heart. 

Beca winced before she could stop herself. “Yikes. Good thing that’s not permanent.” 

Chloe’s face fell. “Well I’m not--I’m not old enough to get a real tattoo--”

“Yeah and that’s a good thing, dude--never get a person’s name tattooed on you. Never, ever.”

“But you’ve got tattoos!”

“None with anyone’s name,” Beca said. “People change, situations change… you don’t wanna be stuck with a name like Eric inked into your skin forever.”

“But I love him!” Chloe blurted, that Chloe Beale fierceness radiating in her tone.

“You don’t love him. You barely know him, Chlo…”

“I love him, Beca! I know he’s only been my boyfriend for a few weeks but I’ve known him since the beginning of the school year because we’re in biology class together!” Chloe’s eyes swirled with that same level of passion and hurt Beca knew all too well. 

Beca remained quiet for a moment, racking her brain because that name sounded so damn familiar and--oh. Fuck. _Eric_. Eric Lingerfeld, the boy who’d inevitably take Chloe’s virginity and shatter her heart into a thousand pieces. Chloe told the story to Beca and the rest of the Bellas during a rainy night in the Bellas’ house during Beca’s sophomore year, when the girls stayed up sharing stories of their ‘first time’. 

“Chloe…” Beca tightened her hold on her thermos, her heart hammering in her chest. How was she supposed to talk some sense into Chloe when she knew what was going to happen? Was it her right to try to step in here? She knew the terrible truth of her unique position as a traveler--that she had to let Chloe make mistakes and get hurt. She couldn’t prevent this inevitable heartbreak, knowing it would leave a lasting scar on Chloe’s heart. She couldn’t--shouldn’t--stop this from happening because at the end of the day, Chloe had to fall and fail and hurt and more importantly, learn and grow. 

“You don’t even know him,” Chloe countered, softer this time as she wrapped a loose thread from her coat around the tip of her index finger, looking down to the treehouse floor. 

Eventually, Beca swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “You’re right, I don’t.” She took another sip of warm soup. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” She wrinkled her nose, reaching out to rest her hand on Chloe’s shoulder and offer a small squeeze. “Just be careful, okay?” 

Chloe’s grin returned and she nodded sheepishly. “Thanks, Beca. And don’t worry about me, okay?”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” Beca replied with a grin, unwrapping the scarf from her neck and rewrapping it over Chloe’s. “Listen, whatever happens with Eric--or any guy, really--” She knew she shouldn’t give anything away, but she had to say something. “--you’re amazing, Chloe. You know that, right? Guys don’t--their opinions don’t matter, even if they feel like they do sometimes. You have a big heart--the biggest heart I’ve ever known, and sometimes that makes you feel more, hurt more. I just… I want you to remember, no matter what, that you feeling so much--that’s a gift, okay? That’s--it’s part of what makes you who you are, and who you are is an incredible person. Don’t ever forget that.”

Chloe listened with her gaze locked on Beca, her lips parted slightly as she hung on every word. Something shifted then, in that moment--Beca saw it in those bright eyes, the way in which she was looking at her. She’d seen that look several times in the same pair of eyes but always older. Like she cared for Beca with her whole heart. Like she believed every word that Beca spoke. 

Like Beca was her world--her past and her present.

And maybe her future, too.


	5. When Chloe Met Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one bumps the rating up to M for sexual situations in the second scene.

**April 25, 1997**  
Beca, age 30  
Chloe, age 6

Beca landed in what had become her most traveled to spot once again, wearing nothing but the tattoos and scars she’d racked up over the years. With a heavy sigh, she crouched and raked a hand through her hair, once again gathering her bearings. The tall grass lay warm beneath her feet, and the familiar forest’s trees displayed fresh springtime blossoms. Sunlight peeked through leaves and branches and Beca remained alert, scanning the immediate area as she made her way over to the trusty oak tree. Only--

There was no ladder. She glanced up, blinking in confusion.

The tree held no treehouse, either. 

“Shit.” 

Moving around to the other side of the trunk, her lips pulled into a frown because there weren’t yet carvings to mark the Beale children’s ages. She swore again and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to pull from memories of Chloe talking about the treehouse.

_Dad built this on Ryan’s 9th birthday. It was the coolest surprise!_

Okay, so the Beale kids were super young or hadn’t been born yet, which would’ve been weird, because Beca had never traveled back to before Chloe was born. Pushing those thoughts aside, she knew she needed to find shelter or clothing--preferably both. She hurried behind a tree closer to the forest’s edge, peering around it to find an empty Beale backyard. Keeping crouched to hopefully not draw any attention from anyone potentially in the house, she slipped over to the large garden shed, breathing a sigh of relief to find it unlocked. Beca hurried inside and closed the door most of the way. A window in the back filtered light through the narrow space, illuminating Mr. Beale’s workbench and wall lined with tools, a garden hose, push lawn mower, folded-up lounge chairs and deflated pool toys. 

_Focus, Beca. You’re still naked._

She took a few strides deeper into the shed, rummaging through the shelving unit until she found a pair of well-worn denim shorts (likely Mrs. Beale’s) and a faded Oregon State t-shirt (likely Mr. Beale’s) and pulled both on. She grinned when she spotted a frayed Mariners baseball cap and tugged it on her head for the hell of it. (Not that she was a baseball fan--she just thought the hat was pretty dope.)

“That’s Daddy’s hat,” a small voice carried from the entrance to the shed.

Beca whirled around to find a kid with ginger pigtails and familiar bright blue eyes blinking curiously up at her. “Oh--hey, Chloe!” 

Chloe’s eyes widened and her lip caught between her teeth; that was when Beca noticed the front two were missing. Shock read plainly on the very young Chloe’s expression and she slipped into the shed, considering Beca for a moment. After a few beats, a full-force grin spread on her face and she bounced up and down a few times with excitement. “You’re the tooth fairy!” 

“I--what?” Beca blinked, pulling off Chloe’s dad’s hat and setting it on the workbench so Chloe could see her eyes, and it was then that Beca realized this was the youngest she’d ever met Chloe. She chuckled softly as the accusation processed, shaking her head. “Sorry, kid. I’m not the tooth fairy.” 

Chloe deflated, reaching up to grip one of the straps of her overalls. “Oh.” She bounced back quickly though--as Chloe always had from minor setbacks or disappointments--and took a few fearless steps toward her. “Are you Mommy’s friend?” 

“No, I--I’m Beca,” she said, clearing her throat and leaning forward with her hands on her knees to put herself closer to Chloe’s height. “I’m just here for a visit. But you shouldn’t--” She narrowed her eyes. “Hasn’t anyone taught you about Stranger Danger, Chlo?”

Chloe cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“Strangers. Are dangerous. You shouldn’t--I mean, _I’m_ okay, but if anyone else you don’t know who’s _not me_ pops in on you or, like, is somewhere they shouldn’t be--you need to run away and scream and tell an adult, okay?”

“Okay…” That too-trusting smile reappeared and she giggled. “There’s a girl in my class and her name’s Beca, too.” 

“Oh yeah?” Beca grinned. “How old are you?”

“Six and three quarters,” Chloe declared, flashing a fuller smile with those missing front teeth. 

Beca thought six-year-old Chloe Beale was pretty much the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. 

Then, Chloe turned the tables on Beca. “How old are _you_?”

Amusement danced in Beca’s eyes and she played the same game she usually did, even though Chloe didn’t yet know it would turn into one. “How old do I look?” 

Six-and-three-quarter-year-old Chloe squinted, her nose scrunching up with deep concentration as she looked Beca up and down, considering. After a moment, she shrugged. “Like… a hundred?”

Beca snorted. “Wow, cool. I know I’ve got a couple grey hairs and there are definitely bags under my eyes ‘cause I stayed up all night working but--” 

“Or fifty-two!”

“Math was never really your strong suit, was it?”

Chloe giggled again.

It was only then when Beca noticed Chloe dangling something by her side--something long and thin and shiny. She pointed to it. “Hey, what’s that?”

Chloe’s eyes followed Beca’s finger and she brightened again, holding up her recorder. “It’s for music class! I can play a song, wanna hear?”

With a smile and a shrug, Beca nodded. “Sure, kid. Go for it.” 

Face screwed up with deep concentration, Chloe took a moment to position her small fingers with sparkly purple painted fingernails over the three holes of the small, plastic instrument. She wrapped her lips around the mouthpiece and began playing a screechy, off-key version of Mary Had A Little Lamb.

It set Beca’s teeth on edge, and it took all she had to not reach up and cover her ears. Thank god the song was short, seriously. 

Chloe didn’t seem to care the sound rang piercing and shrill, and when she finished playing through the notes, she took a breath and beamed wider than a slice of cantaloupe. 

“Wow, Chloe. That was--” Beca laughed, clapping. “Good job. You did great. I’m not really digging that instrument, but I guess you don’t get much of a choice when you’re six, huh?”

“Thanks! I wanna play the saxophone like Ryan but I gotta wait ‘til I’m bigger,” she said with a super dramatic sigh she’d never grow out of. 

Beca remembered Chloe telling her how she experimented with different instruments throughout elementary and middle school. “Y’know, there are other things you can use to make music besides that squeaky torture device,” she said, a small smirk tugging on her lips.

Chloe’s brow shot up and her bright blue eyes swirled with wonder. “Like what?”

“Anything, really,” Beca said. “Anything that gives you a beat. Like…” She glanced around and smirked as she spotted two plastic cups spattered with dried paint, plucking them from the workbench and crouching to sit cross-legged on the floor of the shed. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

Taking one cup, she set it out upside down in front of her and cleared her throat. It had been years--a whole decade, probably--since she sang the cups song, but the instant she started, muscle memory kicked in and she clapped and tapped to the familiar beat. After two rounds, she began singing along. 

_I got my ticket for the long way ‘round,_  
Two bottle o’--grape juice--for the way,  
And I sure would like some sweet company,  
And I’m leavin’ tomorrow whaddya say… 

_When I’m gone, when I’m gone,_  
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone,  
You’re gonna miss me by my hair,  
You’re gonna miss me everywhere,  
Oh, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone. 

The words sunk into Beca’s bones differently now, especially after Chloe grew up and shared with her just how much she’d always missed her after Beca traveled away and wouldn’t return for weeks or months at a time. 

After a few beats of silence, Chloe gasped and clapped so furiously she dropped her recorder. The assigned instrument now forgotten, she hurried over and dropped down in front of Beca, sitting cross-legged to mirror her. “That’s so awesome!”

“Yeah?” Beca grinned. “Wanna learn?”

“Yes please!” Chloe snagged the other cup and set it in front of her. 

Patiently, Beca counted out the taps and claps with Chloe until the little girl who’d grow up to be her best friend and so much more mastered the rhythm like a seasoned pro. It came as no surprise to Beca that unlike math, music came to Chloe as naturally as breathing, and she picked up the (slightly modified) lyrics lightning fast. 

They played their cups and sang together in that shed for nearly an hour, until Beca’s toes began to tingle and she felt herself slipping away. 

“I’m going away now, Chloe, but I’ll be back,” Beca promised. “Don’t be scared, okay?”

Chloe’s head jerked in a confused nod, and Beca watched as blue eyes popped wide in the fraction of a second as she faded into nothing, the pile of borrowed clothes dropping to a heap behind the plastic cup.

****

**December 3, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21  
Beca, age 19

“Hang on there, tiger.” White Christmas lights strung up around Chloe’s bedroom plus two ignited scented candles on her bedside table totally set the mood. Chloe lay comfortably supine atop her mattress with Tom hard at work between her legs, as he had been for the past half hour. When he stilled his hips’ rhythmic movements, she bit her lip as she repositioned her left leg so that her calf rested over Tom’s bare shoulder, allowing him to sink deeper within her. She hissed with delight, grinning back up at him and reaching up to run her fingers through his hair when he groaned. (Seriously, how could the Bellas knock yoga when regular stretching helped keep her super limber?) “Much better, right?” Her question paired with a trademark Chloe wink and she reached around to slap his beautiful ass. “You may continue.” 

Chloe needed this distraction _desperately_. Not to be too dramatic, but the last few weeks had been the absolute worst. She’d earned a C- on her Russian Lit paper, her Bellas barely scraped second place at the regional qualifier (and the Sockapellas almost beat them!), Aubrey was still giving her the cold shoulder, and Beca got _arrested_. (Okay, so her dad bailed her out right away, but still--being taken down to the station was as good as being arrested!)

In addition to all of that, Beca had been spending more and more time with Jesse the Treble. Not that Chloe was spying or anything, but the shady patch of grass on the quad happened to be near the path Chloe took to get to her Cultural Anthropology class, and Jesse had been parking his nerdy picnic blanket and his Capri Suns next to Beca and her headphones and laptop almost every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. Again, _not that Chloe was spying_ , but she’d be blind not to _notice_ them.

Beca insisted to all who pestered her about it--especially Aubrey and Stacie--that she and Jesse were only friends, but Chloe had a feeling Jesse wanted more than that. (Really, who wouldn’t? Beca was amazing in so many ways and Chloe wasn’t even a little bit biased, okay?) Was Jesse Beca’s type, though? How could Chloe have known Beca for almost her entire life and _not_ know Beca’s type? Sure, Beca always remained pretty tight-lipped whenever Chloe would badger her for information, but there had to be something she was missing… some sort of clue Beca purposefully or inadvertently gave her...

“Are you okay, babe?” Tom stilled over her once more, hooded eyes blinking down with her suddenly full of concern.

Chloe opened her eyes and swallowed hard, wondering how long she’d let her thoughts wander. Her cheeks flushed and she offered up an apologetic nose wrinkle. “Sorry, I’m--I’m fine! Super fine. You’re doing _so_ great.”

Tom huffed a laugh. “So are you, but you seem really distracted tonight.”

 _Ugh_. All she wanted was a few hours for her brain to not have to think about her eggshell status with Aubrey or her 24/7 worrying over Beca (not even Jesse related!), and clearly she couldn’t manage that even with her hot High Note tenor who’d proven himself to be a worthy friend with benefits. “I’ve just got a few things on my mind, it’s no big deal,” she said breezily, sighing as she reached up to trace his jaw. “Let me get on top.”

Tom brightened with a smirk, taking hold of Chloe’s waist and flipping their positions. 

Chloe reached up to hastily toss her hair into a messy bun while Tom settled his hands over her hips and guided her over him. She shuddered as she settled into a rhythm, her quads working up a pleasant burn until--

A hard thud echoed from the center of her Bellas house bedroom as a familiar voice squeaked an “Oh, fuck!” 

Chloe and Tom both gasped, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. 

Tom blinked in shocked confusion before his expression morphed into one of sheer delight… at the sight of a very naked Beca Mitchell frozen with terror in the middle of Chloe’s bright-patterned area rug. “Oh _sweet_!” 

Not at all fazed by her own nakedness, Chloe lunged forward and covered Tom’s eyes with her hands. “Oh my god…” she croaked, shooting a panicked look over at Beca once more. “Are you--” 

But Beca was gone in a flash, and at first Chloe thought she’d traveled once again, but the sound of her closet door slamming closed told her otherwise. 

Heart thundering harder in her chest, Chloe’s whole body flushed because being naked around her friends was one thing, but they’d never actually seen her having sex before. And Beca, of all of them… of course it was Beca.

Tom’s voice jolted her out of shock. “Soooo… are you gonna get a _for real_ blindfold so we can start this aca-threesome, or….”

“Wha--oh my god, no, Tom, I’m--I’m _so sorry_.” She winced as she slid off of him, her legs slightly wobbly from the strain as her feet hit the floor. “You need to go.”

He sat up, frowning as he glanced around. “Where’d your friend go?” 

“She--she had the wrong room, bolted out before we could say goodbye.”

Luckily, Tom didn’t think too hard on that weak excuse, though he did hear a door click so that must’ve been what sold the lie. She apologized again and he shrugged it off, telling her he hoped she felt better and got over whatever was clearly bothering her so much as he quickly dressed.

After he left, Chloe grabbed the lilac, knee-length silk bathrobe hung on the back of her door, quickly tying it around her waist as she hurried back across her room. “Beca?”

Nothing.

Chloe sighed, her hands flying to her hips. “Beca, come out of the closet.”

A soft snort could be heard from behind the door and Chloe grinned. “I’m really fucking sorry, Chlo.” Beca decided to stay in the closet, but at least she was talking.

“What for?”

Another scoff. “Uh, for _coitus interruptus-ing_ you, obviously.”

An airy laugh passed Chloe’s lips. “It’s totes okay. It’s not like you had any control over it, right? Besides, I couldn’t really keep my head in the game anyway.”

“Gross.” 

“Beca.” Chloe chided her fondly and rolled her eyes, lips twisting with amusement. “I’m opening this door.” When Beca didn’t protest, Chloe slowly pulled the door open to reveal Beca sitting on her closet floor between two pairs of knee-high boots (her green Hunter galoshes and her trusty warm tall Uggs), having dressed herself in the pitch darkness in a pair of Chloe’s sweatpants and a t-shirt she’d pulled on backwards. 

“It smells like sex in here,” Beca grumbled as she scrambled forward on her hands and knees before pushing up to her feet.

“Gee, I wonder why.” Chloe tossed Beca a wink before moving to her bay window, cracking one open to let the room air out a bit. A cool winter breeze filtered through the room. “Better?”

“Yeah, but I should go. You didn’t have to make him leave or anything.”

Chloe waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine, Bec. I promise. Pretty sure I killed his vibe when he thought I set up a surprise three-way and it didn’t pan out.” She shrugged. “Besides, I can always entertain myself with some lady jams if I get back in the mood later.” 

Beca scrunched up her nose. “Dude, seriously?” 

Another hearty chuckle passed Chloe’s lips as she picked up a throw pillow from the window seat and tossed it at Beca.

Beca caught the decorative pillow, glancing down to realize she was wearing Chloe’s old Barden t-shirt backwards. She chucked the pillow back and pulled her arms back through the shirt, spinning it around correctly.

“So where’d ya go this time?” Chloe settled back on her window seat, not at all minding the cold breeze directly blowing over her sweaty skin.

“Disney World.”

Chloe gasped. “Oh my god, really??”

“No,” Beca said, failing to fully bite back the grin that threatened. “Just a park by my old high school.”

“What’s so special about that place?” Chloe remembered Beca telling her the places she’d traveled to usually held some sort of significance--a tie to a memory of the place itself or a person associated with that setting.

Beca shrugged. “I dunno. Used to hang out there sometimes as a teenager.” Her eyes averted as she mumbled her explanation, and Chloe couldn’t help but feel like that was a purposeful dodge of an answer.

Still, Chloe didn’t press. “You’re okay though? No need for my first aid kit or anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m good. Thanks, though.” Beca crossed her arms over her chest, rocking back on her heels. “So what’s going on with you and that guy, anyway? Is he your boyfriend or something?”

Chloe’s expression softened. “Tom? No, he’s not. We’re just friends who help each other out sometimes.” She flashed a grin over at Beca. “I’d tell you if I had a boyfriend, you know.” 

“Cool,” Beca said, shaking her head as soon as that word came out. “I mean, uh--you don’t have to, it’s not really my business. You don’t have to tell me everything, y’know.” 

“I don’t like keeping secrets from you,” Chloe said earnestly. “But it’s okay if you do. Like--you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to or whatever.”

Beca managed a tight-lipped grin in return. “Thanks, Chlo.” After a beat, Beca cocked her head to the side. “He’s in the High Notes, right?”

“Tom? Yep! He’s got the swooniest vibrato.” 

Beca winced. “Yikes.”

Chloe burst out laughing once more and threw the pillow back at Beca. “Don’t be a perv, I didn’t mean it like that!” 

“I remember him from the Riff-off. And he was the dude you were mackin’ it with at the Hood Night party.”

A smirk spread wider on Chloe’s lips. “ _Mackin’ it with?_ Beca Mitchell, you are too dope for words.” She blinked, that grin turning wolfish as she leaned in a few inches, as though she had a great secret to tell and other people were listening in. (Well, other than Bruce the Betta fish.) “Speaking of dope… Tom said he can get me whatever if I ever wanted. You know. If you wanna test your theory about getting stoned helping you to relax to make your traveling happen less often?”

Beca’s eyes widened and she nodded slowly. “Yeah, actually--that’d be cool. Dope. Literally dope. I mean, can’t hurt, right? And it’d definitely be better than yoga…”

“Hey! Them’s fightin’ words, Mitchell.” 

“Well it’s true. Yoga stressed me out more than anything.”

“That was only because Stacie and Cynthia Rose were checking out your ass.” 

Beca flushed. “Was _not_.”

“Whatever you say,” Chloe said in a sing-song tone. “So that’s a yes, then? I’ll hook us up and we can totes blaze it up together. Maybe this weekend?”

Beca let out a hoarse chuckle, her brow shooting up near her hairline. “Yeah, but only if you never say _blaze it up_ again.” She paused. “Are you gonna invite the rest of the Bellas, or…”

“Oh god, no. Aubrey’s furious enough with me as it is,” Chloe said, grimacing at the thought of Aubrey’s disapproving, disappointed look she’d undoubtedly have pinned on her if she knew about this. “It’ll still be fun just the two of us, right?”

“Sure,” Beca said. “I’d rather not piss Aubrey off more than I already do, either.” 

Chloe nodded solemnly. “Well, it’s a date then.”

“Dope.”

“A dope date. Exactly.” Chloe winked.


	6. Frostbite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Attempted sexual assault in this chapter.

**December 20, 2007**  
Beca, age 19 // age 15

In one minute, Beca Mitchell was gathering her bags after her last Bellas rehearsal before Winter Break when she felt the telltale tingles in her toes indicating an impending travel. She bolted to the nearest bathroom and in the next minute...

Beca’s bare feet crunched into six inches of snow. 

The cold shocked every cell in her body. “Ugh, _seriously?_ Shit.” 

Her teeth began chattering immediately as she huddled into herself, looking around to get a better sense of her surroundings. She stood between two trees in the nighttime, a familiar din of raucous cheering in the near distance. Beca trudged through the woods shivering as the frigid night air broke through the forest and enveloped her bare body in an icy blanket, goosebumps rising on her arms and legs. “This is because I was bitching about cardio again,” she grumbled to herself, knowing she needed shelter and clothing immediately. When she reached the edge of the forest, she froze as the building nearby came into focus. A familiar sense of dread swirled in the pit of her stomach as she stared out at that building, the site of so many shitty adolescent memories.

Newport High School in suburban Seattle.

A groan passed her lips when she realized the sound was coming from the adjacent football stadium, the sound of pounding marching band drums and blaring horns carrying toward the forest that stood on the perimeter of her old school’s campus. The stadium would no doubt be packed with people, so she headed in the opposite direction, knowing she couldn’t be seen in this state. If she could sneak into the building, maybe she could break into a locker for a sweatshirt or something, or raid the lost and found…

Beca hugged her body tighter as she trudged through thick snow, her feet frozen and stinging with each heavy step. She stayed on the edge of the forest as long as she could, hoping the cover of night and shadowy bare trees would help her stay hidden. 

She made it as close as she could to the gymnasium entrance under the cover of trees and took a few deep breaths, pulling frigid air into her lungs and looking both ways before darting across the snow-covered grass around a baseball field. She crossed to the empty snack stand. Halfway there. She crept along the free-standing brick building, eyes locked on the door of the gym when the sound of voices sent her ducking behind a garbage can.

Specifically--her own voice, rapping in the home team’s dugout. 

_“It’s goin’ down, fade to blackstreet,  
The homies got rb, collab’ creations  
Bump acne, no doubt  
I put it down, never slouch  
As long as my credit can vouch  
A dog couldn’t catch me ass out  
Tell me who can stop when Dre makin’ moves  
Attractin’ honeys like a magnet  
Givin’ ‘em eargasms with my mellow maccent--”_

_“WRONG!” A male voice called back with a laugh. “What the hell is a maccent, Mitchell? Drink!”_

The five-year-old memory replaying in her ears hit her like a train. She’d told her mom she was going to watch the football game with her best friend at the time, Nicky Evans, but they ended up in the baseball dugout with vodka-filled water bottles, getting wasted and playing a musical drinking game involving flawlessly spouting song lyrics. The game started off easy, but as the booze soaked into her bloodstream and the challenging songs turned to complicated rap tracks, it quickly snowballed into more and more lyrical fuck-ups, which translated to more and more drinking. 

She remembered the drinking game, but she didn’t remember other people there besides Nicky, and she heard two other dude voices she didn’t recognize.

Her heart gave a wrench in her chest as she also remembered Nicky avoiding her after this night and never telling her why. She’d been crushed, as it had never been easy for Beca to make friends in the first place.

Curiosity piqued enough to avert attention away from her frozen feet for now, Beca crept over to the chain-linked fence, peering into the side of the dugout. She spotted herself sitting on the bench next to Nicky, leaning heavily on his shoulder as she clutched a tall water bottle (definitely not filled with water). Two other boys whose names she didn’t know sat on either side of them--one with curly blonde hair and with a beanie pulled over his head, both wearing maroon and silver letterman jackets with baseball patches sewn into the sleeves. 

One of them nudged Nicky. “You’re next, Evans. Your challenge, should you choose to accept it…” He smirked. “Gold Digger.”

Younger Beca snorted. “Aw c’mon, piece of cake.” 

Nicky scrunched his nose, reaching up to rake his hand through his hair. “Uhh….” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sayin’ she a gold digger… but she ain’t messin’ with no broke--I’m not saying the n-word,” he said. 

“Whatever, dude. Do the first verse!” High school Beca _giggled_ \--a sure sign she was deep in her metaphorical cups--and nudged Nicky’s shoulder. A telltale flush shone steady and bright in her otherwise pale cheeks, and it wasn’t from the cold.

Nicky hung his head and sighed. 

High school Beca gasped. “No way, you don’t know it?? That’s so weak, dude.” 

“You should go for it,” the baseball player in the beanie said, patting Nicky on the head. “Your friend’s pretty cool, y’know. Cooler than you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nicky mumbled.

Beca watched her high school self clear her throat and hold her half-empty water bottle like a microphone. 

_Cutie the bomb, met her at a beauty salon  
With a baby Louis Vuitton under her underarm  
She said, I can tell you rock, I can tell by your charm  
Far as girls you got a flock, I can tell by your charm and your arm  
But I’m lookin’ for the one have you seen her?  
My psychic told me she’ll have an ass like Serena  
Trina, Jennifer Lopez, four kids  
And I gotta take all they bad asses to ShowBiz?_

Drunk high school Beca--with her puffy black coat zipped up to her neck and eyeliner somehow even thicker than she currently wore as a freshman in college--pumped her arm up into the air. “Boom! Didn’t even fuck up the words that time.” She took another drink anyway, bowing her head to the round of applause by the boys around her. 

A rush of cold air shocked Beca back to herself and she tore herself away, rolling her eyes at the high school version of herself. “What a fucking nerd you are, Beca,” Beca muttered, shaking her head as she realized her feet were all but numb. She needed boots and _fast_. 

Reluctantly tearing herself away from the scene, she hurried off to the gymnasium, keeping herself crouched as she found the shadowy parking lot entrance, wrenched the door open and slipped inside. Teeth chattering even as the heated air worked to thaw her frozen flesh, she looked around, trying to get her bearings and realizing she was in the boys locker room. _Ugh, that explains the smell._ Breathing through her mouth, she tugged at a few of the locked lockers until she found one left open, a sigh of relief passing through her when she found a long-sleeved t-shirt; she pulled it on and it hit her mid-thigh, sleeves hanging over her hands, but she found no pants. No shoes, either. Muttering another curse under her breath, she checked a few other lockers before giving up and sitting on the edge of one of the benches, figuring she’d thaw out for a while. She sat in warm, peaceful (and smelly) silence until feeling returned to her toes about fifteen minutes later.

And then the door on the opposite end of the locker room slammed open.

“ _Hoo-rah_ , boys! Another big WIN for the cougars!” A stampede of football players, sweaty in their pads and celebrating with hoots and hollers in reply, filed into the locker room.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Beca hissed, and without time to search for more clothing or find a decent hiding spot, she bolted back out of the door that led back outside before she was seen. The long-sleeved shirt proved little warmth against the frigid temperatures outside, but at least it shielded the majority of her body from direct assault by the harsh, blustery winds picking up in swirling crests and waves.

Her arms wrapped around her as she trudged back out into the snow, following the path she’d taken not long ago. She could head to the visiting team’s dugout, maybe--at least get a break from the winds and snow up to her ankles. That might be a safe enough spot to wait out the rest of her travel. (Hopefully it would be a quick one.)

_”Beca. Beca, wake up.”_

Nicky’s voice carried outside of the chain-link fence and Beca stopped in her tracks en route to the visitor dugout, ducking back to where she’d crouched before to watch some of the rap battle drinking game or whatever it was. Her eyes narrowed as Nicky nudged her younger self’s shoulder, shaking her slightly. “Guys, she’s passed out or something. I’m gonna take her home.” Nicky wrapped his arm around Beca’s waist and lifted her up. She slumped against him, muttering something incomprehensible and he staggered under her dead weight.

The curly-haired baseball player shook his head and clapped an arm on his shoulder to stop him. “Let us handle it, Evans. We’ve got a car and you don’t. Besides, you’ve been drinking too much.”

The guy with the beanie slipped his arm around Beca’s waist and tugged her away from Nicky. 

Younger Beca--clearly too drunk to fully understand what was going on--instinctively curled into him. 

Nicky frowned. “Okay, so. You’ll help me get her to the car, then?”

“We got it,” the other baseball player said, grinning. “You can leave though. She’ll be fine with us.” 

“But--” Nicky glanced back at Beca. “I’m not just gonna leave her, she’s my friend.” 

“She’s in good hands, Evans. Trust us.” 

“Yeah. We’re your future teammates, right?” He pinned Nicky with a look. “You _do_ still want to make the team in the spring, right? If I were you, I wouldn’t do anything to fuck that up.” 

Nicky swallowed hard. “Well, yeah, but--” 

“We promise we’ll get her home safely, Evans. Besides, you wouldn’t want us to tell our coach we found you drinking in the dugout, right?” He took Nicky’s sleeve and shoved him back. “Get lost.” 

Nicky hesitated but ultimately turned and hurried off.

“You coward,” older Beca whispered from her hiding spot, glaring at Nicky’s back when he ran off. So _that’s_ why he couldn’t look her in the eye after tonight, that was why their friendship abruptly ended without explanation. Dread churned in her belly and her grip tightened on the fence as she looked on.

“Freshmen girls are so fucking easy, bro,” the baseball player with the beanie said with a chuckle, still holding Beca around the waist. His free hand reached up to cup her cheek, holding her head back to get a better look at her. “She’s pretty hot, if you like that whole angry girl look. Not so angry now, though, is she?” 

High school Beca’s eyes fluttered open to half-mast, brow wrinkling in confusion. “Nicky?”

“Nicky had to go home, Beca. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.” He leaned down to kiss her on the mouth, and Beca’s hands clutched at his jacket for balance before she shoved at the guy holding her and staggered backward. 

“Aw, c’mon, babe. It’s all good. Relax.” 

The blond jock caught her around the middle. “Hey, it’s cool. Everything’s cool. No need to get pushy.” He held her arms at her side while the other guy walked up and reached for the zipper of her jacket, tugging it down. “You’re really pretty, you know? Really…” He popped open some of the buttons of her flannel shirt and the button of her jeans.

The Beca who traveled back from four years into the future continued to stay out of sight, her expression an open tableau of shock as she wracked her brain, trying to remember _any_ of this part as disgust churned within her. She stopped breathing as she watched the horrific scene unfold--this event she couldn’t recall for the life of her. (She remembered the hangover the next morning, and the lecture about drinking from both parents separately but… _fuck_.)

She didn’t know those guys. She didn’t know their names and she didn’t remember their faces, even though she couldn’t see them clearly in the dark lighting of the dugout. They dragged her unconscious form to the bench and settled on either side of her.

The beanie guy’s voice hit her like a punch to the gut. “There, I think she’s finally passed out. You wanna go first or--”

“ _Hey!_ ” Her voice tore through her frozen vocal chords on a squeaky rasp but it was loud enough to send their gazes snapping in her direction. 

“ _Shit_. Who’s there?” 

“Get the fuck away from me--from _her_. I’m calling the cops!” It was an empty threat, considering she didn’t have pants or boots let alone a phone, but it seemed to work.

She heard the guys swear again and scramble in the opposite direction, leaving her younger form behind.

Confident they were alone, Beca rushed over, shivering not only from the cold but with adrenaline flooding her veins as she inspected herself from five years ago. “Shit, Beca. Do you know what the fuck would’ve happened if I wasn’t here?” Great, now she was lecturing her passed out self. With a sigh that puffed out visibly in front of her due to the cold, she hurried to refasten buttons those fuckers managed to undo--her jeans first, then her flannel and she zipped up her coat all the way.

She didn’t expect her younger self to stir. 

“Nicky? S’my turn to do the raps, right? M’gonna kick your ass again this round,” she slurred, struggling to open her eyes. When she managed that, she squinted up at her future self, gasping. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, _holy shit_ is right.” Older Beca reached into her younger self’s pocket for her iPhone and thankfully remembered the passcode. She couldn’t feel her fingers anymore but she pressed the call button, forcing a sharp inhale and exhale. Luckily, the call connected. “Mom?”

Younger Beca flailed her arms toward the phone. “Nooo, don’t call mom!” 

Older Beca shoved younger Beca’s hands away. “Hey, mom.” No need to tell her what happened, or that she was actually her older self from the future. “Yeah, I’m okay. Drank a little too much--spare me the lecture, could be way worse, okay? Can you pick me up ASAP? I’m at school--baseball field. Thanks. Love you, too.” She clicked the button to end the call and shoved the phone back in Beca’s pocket. 

“M’gonna get in soooo much fucking troubleeee,” younger Beca whimpered, struggling to sit up. 

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have been drinking so damn much. Those guys--” Beca stopped herself, biting her lip. If she didn’t remember, maybe it was for the best. At least she’d intervened, thank god, but another shudder wracked her body at the _what if_ questions racing through her mind. 

Her younger self huffed, clearly unaware of what almost happened. “Whatever.” She eyed her older self until her gaze fell on older Beca’s wrists, squinting. “Whoa, I get tattoos, huh?” She beamed. “M’sucha badass.” 

“Uh huh.” She rolled her eyes at her literal self. “Total badass.” 

“This is weird but it’s cool too, y’know? You should--come back--more often. So we can hang out. S’like you’re my big sister ‘cept _not really_ but we’re so fucked up ‘cause who else time travels in the world? Prob’ly nobody.”

Older Beca heaved a sigh. “You’re not gonna remember any of this.” 

“You’re cold,” she finally observed in her inebriated state. “Travelin’ naked is the freakin’ worst, right? Here, take my coat--” She reached up to paw at her zipper, frowning when her booze-addled fingers didn’t seem to work the way she wanted them to.

Beca shook her head, reaching out to still her younger self’s hand. “You keep that on. Mom’ll be here soon.”

Younger Beca curled up on the dugout bench, dozing in and out of consciousness, muttering incomprehensible things under her breath when she was more alert. Older Beca sat with her younger self, soothing her hand over her head and making sure she lay on her side in case she had the sudden urge to puke. 

Though the dugout shielded Beca from the frozen, blustery winds, the chill settled back into her bones as she sat and waited. Mom would be freaked out when she found her there, but at least she’d let her warm up in her car while she waited out the rest of her travel, if she didn’t insist on taking her home. Maybe she’d even go easier on her younger self and not yell as much about the drinking. 

That had been wishful thinking. Beca spotted two figures walking toward the side of the dugout from a distance. One was her mom, and the other…

“Shit. Aunt Tina.” 

Aunt Tina was cool and all, but she didn’t know about her traveling problem. 

Which meant she had to fucking book it before she was seen. Casting one last look back at her younger self, she hurried from the dugout in the opposite direction, her feet once again crunching in deep snow. With the football game over, swarms of people flooded the parking lot and immediate area around the buildings, so she had no choice but to run back across the snow-covered baseball diamond, through right field, and back into the woods. 

Beca made it ten feet past the treeline before tripping over a fallen branch hidden beneath the snow, falling forward seemingly in slow motion. She smacked her head on a snow-coated stone and, much like her younger self a baseball field away, blacked out.

****

 **December 20, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21 // Beca, age 19

“Chloe, let’s go. You’re gonna miss your flight.” Aubrey held the door to the Bellas house open and motioned at Chloe, who paced around the living room, twisting her fingers in front of her. 

“Give me another minute, Bree. Please?” Things had been tense with Aubrey for several weeks now, but they carried on as best as they could as co-captains and cohabitants of the house they’d lived in together for years. Chloe craved a yoga session right now--anything that would help to calm the nerves that regularly crept in when she knew Beca was in the midst of a travel. She had a feeling when Beca ran off “to the bathroom” at the end of rehearsal that was what happened, and peeking into the restroom to find a pile of clothes pooled atop Beca’s slip-on Vans confirmed that suspicion. She scooped up Beca’s discarded clothes, shoved them into her Beca Bag, and had been an anxious mess ever since while the rest of the girls returned to their dorms and finished packing up to board buses and Ubers and cabs. 

Aubrey and Chloe were the last to leave and planned on sharing a cab to head to the airport. The horn honked outside. Their ride had been waiting, but Chloe lingered behind, checking her phone every other second or hoping to at least catch a glimpse of Beca returning, wanting to make sure she was okay.

“Chloe, come on. What are you even--”

A loud thud echoed through the Bellas’ living room from upstairs and Chloe’s heart clenched as she rushed past the kitchen and flew up the stairs to her bedroom, where Beca had traveled back twice already this year. When she flung her door open, she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as panic seized her. “Oh my god, _Beca!_ ” 

Beca lay curled up on her side on Chloe’s carpet, shivering and naked with her pale skin tinged _blue_ and blood seemingly dried--no, _frozen_ \--down the side of her face. 

Chloe flew to her side immediately, dropping to her knees and furiously brushing away the tears that slid down her own cheeks as her trembling fingers reached for Beca’s neck. Her pulse thumped rhythmically beneath her fingertips but her skin felt like ice. “Beca, shit--Beca?” She knew she needed to warm her up, but the gash on her forehead near her hairline gave Chloe pause to jostle her too much. What if she had a serious head injury? She didn’t want to make it worse. Instead, she reached behind her and pulled her comforter off her bed, scrambling to cover the rest of Beca’s spasming body.

“Chloe?” Aubrey stood in Chloe’s doorway, her jaw falling slack when she set eyes on Beca. “What-- _how_ \--is she--” For once, the blonde was rendered speechless.

“Bree, help me,” Chloe pleaded, her voice breaking as she did all she could. “She has a pulse and she’s breathing but she’s too cold--and her head--”

“What _happened_ , Chloe?” Aubrey dropped to her knees on the other side of Beca, reaching out to touch her shoulder and grimacing. “How is she this cold? It’s not even that cold outside--” Aubrey gasped. “Is she _naked_ under here? What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know exactly but--I just--we need to get her to the hospital or something--” Chloe’s voice shook as she gently rolled Beca onto her back and stroked Beca’s arms through the blanket, trying desperately to get her to warm up. 

“Right,” Aubrey said, refocusing on the task at hand even though her eyes swirled with dozens of questions. “I’ll call an ambulance.” She whipped her phone out of her back pocket, sliding easily into take charge mode when Chloe could barely keep it together.

“No,” Beca croaked, groaning as she stirred further into consciousness. “No hos-hospital,” she managed in a hoarse, barely-there voice. Her vocal cords had frozen, too. 

“You likely have hypothermia and probably frostbite, too.”

Chloe’s brow shot up as Aubrey brought the phone to her ear, waving her hand dismissively. 

“I’m a Girl Scout Ambassador, Chloe. It’s basic First Aid.” Aubrey ignored Beca’s plea and spoke into the phone. “Yes, this is Aubrey Posen. I need an ambulance.”

Aubrey gave the 9-1-1 operator the information she needed and pocketed her phone once more. “They’ll be here in under five minutes. Try to stay conscious.” 

Beca grumbled a slew of swears, tears stinging her eyes. “I fucking hate hospitals,” Beca rasped, freeing one of her arms from the blanket burrito Chloe had cocooned her in and hissed on an inhale as her fingers brushed the painful lump. “Ow, fuck. That explains the headache.” 

“I know you do. I’ll stay with you the whole time, if you want,” Chloe soothed, bracing a warm hand against Beca’s cold cheek. 

“Yeah. Just don’t call my dad, okay? Please.” 

Chloe hesitated and glanced over to Aubrey, who shot her a look. Chloe sighed and nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”

Aubrey clicked her tongue disapprovingly, but she couldn’t intervene--Beca was an adult, much as she thought she acted like a petulant child most of the time. “What the hell is going on, Beca?”

Chloe grimaced. “Bree, give her some time, okay? This is--it’s bigger than--”

“M’a motherfuckin’ superhero,” Beca muttered through chatteriing teeth. “Like the Flash.” 

Aubrey snorted, rolling her eyes before pinning Beca with a hard stare. “Well if that’s the case, you’re clearly not a very good one.” 

Beca glared but winced when the shifting forehead muscles aggravated her head injury. “Screw you, dude.” 

A male voice called upstairs. “Ms. Posen? Paramedics here.”

“Yes, up here!” Aubrey left Beca and Chloe to meet the paramedics and lead them upstairs. 

The male set his first aid box aside and crouched beside Beca while the female offered Chloe a polite grin. “Please move aside, miss...”

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe gave Beca’s arm one last squeeze before stepping back, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she watched them work. 

“Hi there,” the female paramedic greeted with a warm smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Beca Mitchell,” Beca mumbled with a sigh. “Rebecca, I guess, if you need it all official.”

“Thanks, Beca. We’re gonna check your vitals here. Can you tell us anything about what happened?” 

Beca paused, casting her eyes away from the paramedic. “Not really,” she muttered. “I forget.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose while Aubrey moved to stand beside her. “I’ll fill you in later, Bree,” Chloe whispered. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t obviously keep the secret anymore, not after Aubrey saw Beca in this state. When Aubrey nodded and wrapped her arms around Chloe from the side, Chloe all but melted into her friend’s embrace. She’d _missed her_. Fighting was horrible, and she needed her best friend right now. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Aubrey whispered back, swallowing down the emotion that bubbled in her throat as she squeezed her tight. 

“It’s 50 degrees outside,” the female paramedic said to the male with confusion in her voice, examining Beca’s fingers and toes, nose and earlobes, all affected most by the cold. “How could she have gotten hypothermia and frostnip?” When Beca remained silent and the other paramedic shrugged, the two uniformed helpers looked up to Chloe and Aubrey with the same question in their eyes.

Chloe bit her lip, wracking her brain as she searched for some sort of plausible explanation that wasn’t the truth, because Beca didn’t want anyone knowing the truth and she swore to keep that promise whenever possible. Words came up empty and she glanced over to Beca, squinting in apology. 

“Our Beca is quite the thrill-seeker,” Aubrey said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Someone dared her to stand in our basement freezer for an hour.” 

The paramedics blinked back to Beca, who frantically nodded to confirm the story. 

“And the head injury?” 

“I’m a clumsy bitch. Fell tripping up the steps,” Beca added. “Not my finest moment.” 

“We’d like to take you in for some observation, get you checked out more thoroughly by a physician.”

Beca groaned. 

“Your friends can ride along in the ambulance, if they’d like.” The paramedic eyed Chloe and Aubrey. “You guys need to be more careful. Playing with body temperature is a dangerous game. If you’d been in the freezer much longer, Beca, you’d have frostbite, which is tougher to treat and has lasting effects.” 

“Thanks. Got it,” Beca replied, a frown still pulling on her lips. 

The paramedics lifted Beca onto the gurney and carefully guided her down the stairs and loaded her into the ambulance. 

Chloe and Aubrey sat huddled on a small bench toward the rear ambulance doors while the paramedics sat at Beca’s side, talking to her softly and asking her more questions. 

“Tell me what I need to know,” Aubrey whispered, keeping her voice pitched low but eager to get some answers. “I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Chloe puffed out a breath, her anxiety starting to settle now that Beca was alert and being taken care of by medical professionals. “Okay,” Chloe said, clearing her throat. “It started when I was six, when I first met Beca. She was… 25, at the time.”

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed, irises swirling with both confusion and disbelief. 

They both missed their flights.


	7. A Not So Merry Christmas

**December 21, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21  
Beca, age 19

Chloe woke with a soft gasp at some point in the middle of the night, wincing at the dull ache pulling at her neck muscles when she moved her head too quickly. That pain was instantly forgotten when a swell of affection rushed through her at the sight of Beca, awake, in the hospital bed where she’d been out cold for--Chloe glanced at the clock--almost ten hours. “You’re awake,” she breathed, her voice thick with sleep. She cleared her throat, unable to stop the grin spreading when she noted how adorably small and nonthreatening Beca appeared, pale and tiny in her hospital gown, tucked beneath thick blankets. 

“Yeah. Hey, weirdo,” Beca rasped, casting a nervous glance toward the door frame. “Did you--”

“I didn’t call your dad. I promised I wouldn’t.” Thankfully, the hospital staff assured Chloe that Beca would be fine, that they wanted to keep her for observation overnight to make sure her body temperature regulated without any complications. The truth was that Chloe would have called Beca’s dad if the situation called for it, but she wasn’t going to ruffle Beca’s feathers by telling her so. 

Beca’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the news and she offered a grateful look. “Thanks, Chlo.”

Chloe shrugged. “What are friends for?” She waited a bit, her lip catching between her teeth before she ripped the bandaid off. “I told Aubrey. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want to and I said I wouldn’t, but--”

Beca waved her hand dismissively. “No, it’s cool. I kinda figured she’d demand answers… I mean, she lied for me, so that was… decent of her.” She glanced toward the quiet doorway again. “Is she--”

“She rescheduled her flight back to Virginia, but she sends her best. I swore her to secrecy. I know you and Aubrey don’t always see eye-to-eye, but… I trust her with this.”

“Okay.” Beca inhaled deeply and let out a shaky exhale. “Sorry I scared you.” 

Chloe swallowed thickly, blinking back tears that prickled hot and threatened to fall. “It’s okay. You can’t control it.” She reached out and took Beca’s hand, relaxing at its warmth. “You were so cold. And your head was bleeding--you didn’t need stitches, by the way, it’s not that deep, but it was really bloody.” 

Beca frowned, reaching up with her free hand to graze her fingers over the bandage near her hairline. No stitches was a good thing, definitely. “Yeah, I remember landing in your room. If you guys had left--if you weren’t there--” 

“I know,” Chloe provided. A million what-ifs had raced through Chloe’s mind as she sat in that chair, watching Beca sleep for hours before she drifted off herself. If they hadn’t called the paramedics to care for Beca, to help her safely raise her body temperature back to normal… Chloe hated picturing Beca alone in those situations, and the whole thing brought a sharp pang of sadness that struck her square in the chest.

“I’m trying to say thanks,” Beca mumbled, a weak grin flickering on her lips. “So when did you reschedule your flight for?”

“Um…” Chloe guiltily glanced down at her phone. “There weren’t any? Everyone’s traveling for the holidays, y’know, so all the flights are overbooked already. It’s totally okay.” That wasn’t the total truth, but she didn’t want Beca to know that. Instead, she offered one of her certified Chloe winks. “Guess you’re stuck with me for Christmas.” 

Beca’s face fell. “Shit. Chlo, I don’t want you to miss Christmas with your family because of me.” 

“It’s totes okay,” Chloe reassured her, squeezing that hand she held. “I already talked to my parents, explained that I stayed to help you with a special project, and that I’ll def go home for Spring Break.” 

“Special project?” 

Chloe smirked. “Yeah, un-Grinchifying your grumpy butt.”

Beca groaned. “Seriously? Christmas is always the worst. And it’s my first year I’ve gotta go to Dad’s and I’m already planning on faking a flu or a loss of limb to get out of it.” 

“What if I go with you? Would that help?” Chloe may have personal space issues, but she wouldn’t have invited herself to Beca’s family dinner if she didn’t think it would help Beca have an ally. From what she’d heard, Dr. Mitchell was cool and all, but Beca still harbored loads of resentment toward him regarding Sheila--the other woman her dad left her and flew across the country for, and if her presence would make it less painful for Beca, she was happy to volunteer to be her plus one, if that was even possible.

“What?” Beca eyed her, squinting with disbelief. “You wanna go to my dad’s for Christmas dinner? With Sheila and her stepmonster children?” 

Chloe’s smile widened and she nodded with such fervor Beca probably thought she was on something. “Totes! I love Christmas, and I’d love to meet your family.” She’d been dying to learn more about Beca’s family for what felt like forever, honestly, but she didn’t need to freak Beca out with that part.

“As long as you use a loose-as-fuck definition of the word family,” Beca muttered, eyeing Chloe suspiciously before emitting a heavy sigh. “It’s probably gonna be not great, just so you know. Sheila’s _too much_ , and Jake’s a certified douchebag, and Kelsey’s an annoying 14-year-old… but yeah, okay. If you really want to. You asked for it.” 

“Awesome.” Chloe beamed, dismissing Beca’s review of her family members because surely they’d all be in good spirits, right? Who wasn’t on Christmas? “Can’t wait.”

Beca snorted. “I can,” she said. “So, did the doctor or nurse or whoever tell you when I can get the fuck out of here?”

Chloe laughed. “I’ll go find someone and ask now that you’re awake. In the meantime, if you wanna get out of that super sexy gown…” She leaned over and picked up the yellow Beca Bag she always kept on her, tossing it onto Beca’s lap before strolling out to see when she could take Beca back to the Bellas house where she could watch over her through the holidays.

***

Beca secured Chloe’s invite to her family’s Christmas dinner easily enough. (Chloe could’ve sworn she heard Beca on the phone saying something to the effect of ‘ _If I can’t bring Chloe I’m not coming_ ’ but there didn’t seem to be any resistance from Beca’s dad so she wasn’t going to make a big deal about the threat.)

Chloe had permission to borrow Aubrey’s car for the break, so after she brought Beca home to the Bellas’ house from the hospital, she made sure to keep Beca good and distracted from the dinner she’d been dreading in what Chloe was sure had to be worrying for nothing. (Maybe Chloe was being naive, but she was sure Beca’s stepfamily couldn’t be that bad, right?) Regardless, she went into _aggressively cheerful_ holiday mode in the few days in between. Chloe roped Beca into several of her favorite holiday traditions; they baked and decorated cookies together, watched some of Chloe’s favorite Christmas movies (she was pretty sure Beca didn’t protest because she still felt bad about Chloe missing the holidays with her family), and Beca humored Chloe by singing holiday duets with her whenever a song popped into Chloe’s head. Which was lot, around Christmas time. 

December 25th finally arrived and Beca couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the passenger seat of Aubrey’s white SUV. She shifted twice, fiddled with her phone, and crossed and uncrossed her dark denim-clad legs, adjusting the front of her freshly steamed button-down shirt.

“Hey,” Chloe said from the driver’s seat, reaching over to settle a hand on Beca’s knee in an attempt to provide some sort of reassurance. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“They’re monsters,” Beca reminded Chloe for what felt like the 80th time since Chloe volunteered to endure Mitchell Family Christmas.

“We’ll make the best of it. How’s your dad’s cooking?”

Beca wrinkled her nose. “Dad can’t cook. Sheila’s… not the worst, I guess.”

“See??” Chloe brightened. “The food won’t suck, that’s a _win_ , Becs.” Chloe knew she was given a strand of positivity thread and pulled a whole spool, but she wasn’t getting any optimism from Beca and she tried to focus on the good. _Aggressively cheerful, dammit!_

A sigh passed Beca’s lips as she stared out at the festively lit houses they passed en route to her dad’s house, who only lived a few miles from campus. “Jake’s gonna hit on you,” Beca reminded Chloe for the fifth time that day.

“You’ve warned me already. I can handle that if it happens.” Chloe was eager to meet the Jake that Beca painted quite a vivid picture of--blonde, bulky, cocky college football player with a--what was it? Oh, yeah, a _punchable face_. Apparently Jake and Beca were around the same age and when Beca had to fly out to visit her dad during the summers, Jake and Beca did _not_ mesh well. From what she understood, Jake and his friends had fun playing pranks on Beca and found it endlessly entertaining to get a rise out of her in any way possible. Learning about the bullying broke Chloe’s heart, and she could understand why Beca didn’t want to see him again.

“He’s a douchebag. I give it ten minutes ‘til he says something skeezy, maybe not even.”

“You haven’t seen him in a year or so, right? Maybe he’s matured.” Chloe grinned when Beca snorted. “I’ll take it as a compliment, okay? It’s fine.” 

“Don’t forget you asked for all this.”

“How could I? You keep reminding me.” Chloe squeezed Beca’s knee, flashing her a quick smile. “Hey, breathe. Try not to stress, okay?” Her unspoken worry that the stress would trigger another travel hung heavy in the air even if she didn’t verbalize it aloud. She released Beca’s knee and pushed the car’s sound system on. _Winter Wonderland_ filtered through Aubrey’s car and Chloe sang along as merrily as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Beca side-eyeing her, the hint of a smirk pulling on her lips. 

They pulled into the driveway of Dr. Mitchell’s house a few minutes later and Chloe braced herself before opening the car door, the brisk wintertime air shooting a chill through her stocking-covered legs despite her warm coat doing a decent job insulating her body heat. Chloe’s heels clicked on the decorative stone walkway as she hurried over to Beca’s side and looped her arm through hers, both to tug her toward the door and prevent her from bolting. 

“C’mon, Madame Grinch,” Chloe teased. 

Beca shot her a look. “Do I look green to you? I’m obviously more of a Scrooge.” 

Chloe considered for a moment, leaning in. “Whatever. You’re a _hot_ Scrooge.” A snort that could _almost_ be considered a laugh escaped Beca’s lips and Chloe brightened. “We’re gonna be fine. We’ll fake it ‘til we make it, ‘kay?”

Beca nodded, steeling herself with a deep breath before she knocked three times.

The door flung open to reveal Beca’s dad (with much lighter hair, an easy smile, and different facial structures than Beca--it made Chloe want to meet Beca’s mom to see if she resembled her instead). Dr. Robert Mitchell held his arms out. “Merry Christmas, Bec. And Chloe! Thanks for joining us.”

Chloe waved and gave Beca a little nudge when she hesitated, flashing her own megawatt grin back at him. “Thanks, Dr. Mitchell! Thanks so much for inviting me!” 

“Of course, it’s our pleasure. We were so sorry to hear that your flights got all messed up. Nobody should be alone on Christmas. Especially a good friend to our Beca. Come on in, girls. I’ll take your coats.”

Chloe followed Beca inside the house as Dr. Mitchell closed the door behind them. Before Chloe could get her coat all the way off, a blonde woman in an expensive looking cocktail dress glided toward them. 

“Beca, sweetie!” 

Beca’s grimace morphed--with great effort--into a pinched smile. “Sheila, hey. Merry Christmas.” She accepted the too-tight hug (not that Sheila gave her much of a choice, barreling into her as she did) before reaching back for her. “This is Chloe--”

“Chloe! Welcome!” Sheila scooped Chloe up into a hug before held her out at arm’s length, inspecting her with a wolfish grin. “Oh, my. Aren’t you a beauty?”

Chloe laughed, color brightening her cheeks. She was a hugger, always had been, so the more physical greetings didn’t bother her like it clearly did for Beca. “It’s so nice to meet you. That’s really sweet of you to say. Thanks for having me tonight. I really appreciate--”

“Nonsense, darling.” Sheila cut Chloe off, waving her hand dismissively. “Any friend of Beca’s is a friend of ours. Come, come. Let’s get you both something to drink.” She bustled into the living room, waving them along.

Beca rolled her eyes, leaning in to whisper to Chloe. “Told you she’s super intense.”

“She seems sweet, _sweetie_ ,” Chloe teased, offering a soft hip-check to Beca as she looped her arm through hers again. 

“Just you wait, _darling._ ” Beca mumbled and walked further into the house. 

When they reached the living room, Sheila hurried back over and offered them each a sparkling glass of… champagne? With a strawberry on the bottom?

“Champagne? Classy, Sheila,” Beca muttered with a smirk, taking a sip and wrinkling her nose in disappointment. “Oooh, nope. This is sparkling cider.”

“That’s _thank you_ in Beca-speak,” Chloe translated with a wink, offering up her glass to Beca. “Christmas Cheers, Becs!”

“Whatever, weirdo. Cheers.” She tapped her glass to Chloe’s before her second sip. 

“Would you like something with alcohol, Chloe? Robert tells me you’re a senior, so--”

Chloe politely shook her head. “Oh, no thank you. I’m driving anyway, so I’ll stick to cider.” Plus, she wouldn’t drink if Beca couldn’t… and they both knew that drinking wasn’t good for Beca’s condition, so she tended to abstain in solidarity, when she could. 

A younger teenaged girl with Sheila’s same shade of yellow-blonde hair brushed right by them, head down as she mindlessly scrolled through her phone without word and flopped onto the couch, reaching with her free hand into the bowl of holiday colored M&Ms. 

“Hey, Kelsmonster,” Beca greeted, eyeing her stepsister with amusement. 

“‘Hey, Becky.” She didn’t bother looking up from her phone.

“That’s Kelsey.”

“I figured that,” Chloe said, grinning. “Hey, Kelsey. I’m Chloe.”

Kelsey glanced up for half a second, unfazed by a new presence. “Hey.”

Sheila’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Dinner will be served in five! Don’t spoil your appetite with M&Ms, Kelsey!” 

“I’m not, mom!” Kelsey called back, shoving another handful of the chocolate shelled candies into her mouth.

Chloe smiled fondly at Kelsey, considering whether or not to try to get to know her a bit or not interrupt whatever she was doing on her phone. Before she could decide, however, a heavy set of feet barreled down the staircase. Chloe whirled around to spot who could only be the infamous Jake, Sheila’s son. 

“Yoooo did I hear Becky’s here?? The one and only _DJ Becky Bec_ , Seattle’s finest turntable midget with the sickest beats--” Jake called in a jovial taunt before he hit the last step, whipping around the bannister and into the living room. He stopped short, his eyes widening as he spotted Chloe.

Beca stiffened beside Chloe, narrowing her eyes in a heated glare. “Oh look, it’s Jake the Mistake.” 

Jake held out his arms, taking a few steps toward them. “What, no sisterly hug?” 

“Hard pass. I’d rather not catch the herp,” Beca mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as best as she could with the champagne glass.

Chloe grimaced, placing what she hoped was a reassuring hand on Beca’s shoulder. Considering Kelsey didn’t react, she had a feeling this was their typical step-sibling banter.

“Are you gonna be polite and introduce me to your friend?” He asked, wiping his hand on the side of his pants before extending it to Chloe. “Hi, I’m Jake. And you’re incredibly beautiful.”

Beca snorted. “She’s also not interested. And her name is Chloe.” 

“Wow, that’s--” Chloe huffed a strained sort of laugh, shaking his hand and offering a wide grin. “--that’s really quite a greeting. Nice to meet you, Jake.” 

“If you make Chloe any more uncomfortable than you already have, I swear you’ll regret it,” Beca warned, eyes locked on Jake like laser beams. 

Jake’s brow shot up. “Chill out, Becky. It’s Christmas! Where’s the jolly spirit, huh? Why don’t we set aside our differences for one night, be adults.”

“Or you could shove a candy cane up your--”

“Jake,” Chloe said firmly, cutting Beca off. “Beca told me you go to Georgia State?”

“I’m a Sophomore,” he said, puffing out his chest as he placed a hand over his heart, his eyes almost cartoonish with flashing hearts as they stared at her. “Finance major. Panthers football. Starting linebacker this year.” 

“Wow, that’s impressive. Congratulations,” Chloe offered with a fond, genuine grin. Maybe if she could keep Jake talking at her all night, he’d leave Beca alone. It seemed like a decent strategy. 

“Thanks. Yeah. Not many sophomores have a starting slot. It’s a lot of hard work--training every morning, between classes--”

“Oh yeah? What sort of training is it?” Chloe felt Beca’s glare directed at her. Okay, maybe her game plan wasn’t the best idea. 

Jake leaned in. “Well there’s weight training--that’s the bulk of it. Endurance training. Lots of cardio for stamina building. And the team does yoga once a week.”

“Yoga’s my jam,” Chloe said, grinning and nudging Beca with her elbow. “Beca’s pretty good at it, too.”

Beca rolled her eyes, muttering into her champagne glass. 

Chloe could’ve sworn she saw the flicker of an exasperated smile on Beca’s face, too. She considered that a win.

“Come on in, everyone,” Dr. Mitchell called, popping his head into the living room from the dining room. “Dinner’s ready.”

Beca, Chloe, Jake, and Kelsey shuffled into the dining room, where Sheila’s table setup made it clear she went a little overboard in the HomeGoods Christmas section. The first course--a mixed green salad with some type of oil-based dressing--sat on small, chilled plates at each setting. Beca sat next to Chloe on one side of the table, Jake sat across from Chloe, and Kelsey next to him and across from Beca. Dr. Mitchell and Sheila sat at opposite heads of the table. 

“It’s so wonderful to have everyone home for the holidays--and have the opportunity to host our special guest.” Sheila flashed a warm smile over at Chloe before reaching for her fork. “Enjoy the first course, everyone.” 

Everyone remained silent as they took their first few bites of salad. 

“Kelsey,” Sheila whispered, breaking the silence and shooting her daughter a look. “No phones at the dinner table.”

“Sorry,” Kelsey mumbled, shoving her phone into her pocket. 

“So how are you adjusting to college life so far, Beca?” Sheila asked, much sunnier. “Your father told me you’ve joined an acapella group.”

Jake coughed into his fist, the noise sounding suspiciously like _’Nerd’_.

Beca forced a wide grin right back at Sheila. “I did, yeah. It’s good so far.”

“I’m really proud of you for giving it a real shot, Bec,” Dr. Mitchell said. 

“Beca’s an incredible addition to our group,” Chloe chimed in, ignoring Jake and shooting a smile over at Beca. “She’s super talented. We’re really lucky to have her.” 

“Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Chlo.” Beca reached for her glass of water and Chloe suspected she wanted to turn the topic of conversation away from herself. 

Jake straightened up in his chair. “I love music. And singing,” he said through a mouthful of half-masticated lettuce, having a sudden change of heart about acapella, apparently. 

Beca rolled her eyes. “You’re also tone deaf.” 

“Bec. Be nice,” Dr. Mitchell warned gently.

“Kelsey,” Sheila hissed for the second time. Clearly her daughter hadn’t taken that first no-phones-at-the-table warning seriously.

Beca clamped her lips shut and remained quiet for the remainder of the salad course.

Chloe did her best to keep conversation flowing throughout the first part of the main course, chatting animatedly with Dr. Mitchell about her plans to explore vet school after graduation. 

( _’I love animals’_ , Jake dazedly announced through a mouthful of meatballs this time, earning him another glare from Beca across the table.)

Beca wound a few strands of spaghetti around her fork, seemingly content to sit and listen to her dad and Chloe chatter back and forth until Sheila addressed her directly.

“Beca, sweetie, how have you been feeling?”

Beca quirked a brow. “Me? I’m fine.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Sheila grinned. “Your father’s been so worried--what with your condition and all.”

“Sheila--” Dr. Mitchell shot his wife a look across the table, but it was too late. 

“My… condition?” Beca swallowed hard, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

“Yeah, _duh_ ,” Kelsey piped in, glancing up from the phone still nestled in her lap, regarding Beca with curiosity and interest for the first time since she arrived. “Your crazy _time-travel_ thing.”

Judging by how Kelsey nor Jake reacted strongly, it was clear to Chloe--and likely Beca now, too--that this wasn’t new information to them.

Beca’s jaw fell slack and she blinked in disbelief at her father. “You _told_ them?” 

“Bec, they’re family,” he explained, holding up his hands as if it would placate her.

Chloe slipped what she hoped was a comforting hand over Beca’s knee beneath the table, though Beca didn’t seem to notice. 

Instead, she trembled with rage, her face flushing. “They’re _your_ family, you mean.”

“Oh, sweetheart--” Sheila’s face screwed up in panic and she shot an apologetic look over at her husband. “Your father’s just been so worried about you adjusting to college life and living so far from home, that’s all. Don’t be angry with him for telling us.”

Oblivious to the tension, Jake smirked across the table at Beca. “Is it true you land bare-ass _naked_ when it happens?” 

Beca scoffed, her cheeks flushing as deep as the obnoxiously bright red Christmas candles lit on the table. “Oh my _god_ , dude. Don’t fucking ask me--” She cut herself off and turned and pinned Chloe with a tearful look that broke Chloe’s heart before pushing to her feet. “I told you this was gonna be terrible.” 

Chloe’s heart clenched even harder. “Beca, wait--”

Blinking back those tears, refusing to let them fall in her dad’s presence, Beca stormed off from the Christmas dinner table and back through the living room where another door in the house slammed seconds later. 

Dr. Mitchell rubbed at his temples. “I’m so sorry, everyone.”

“Beca’s always sooo dramatic,” Kelsey muttered, still scrolling through her phone. 

Sheila shook her head. “That is not helpful commentary, Kelsey. And for the last time--”

Kelsey pocketed her phone once again and started back in on her spaghetti and meatballs. 

Chloe forced a grin, guilt flooding her for a bunch of reasons, all of which she wasn’t sure she had control over. Regardless, the saddened look on Beca’s dad’s face pulled at her heartstrings even more. “Hey, Dr. Mitchell, it’s gonna be okay.”

Dr. Mitchell nodded. “She needs time to cool off. I’ll go and check on her in a minute.”

Her lip caught between her teeth, Chloe glanced back through the living room, considering for a moment before clearing her throat. “Actually, would you mind if I did?”

A singular, hoarse chuckle passed his lips as he reached for his wine glass. “Go for it, Chloe. I’m sure you’ll have better luck than me.”

“Thanks.” She flashed a tight-lipped smile to the rest of them. “Please excuse me for a minute, you guys.” Pulling the cloth napkin from her lap and setting it on the table beside her half-eaten plate, she followed Beca’s escape route, not quite sure where she went. The light creeping out from one closed door told Chloe Beca was in the powder room. “Beca? It’s me,” she said softly, not wanting her voice to carry back toward the dining room.

“Go ‘way, Chlo,” Beca mumbled miserably.

“Nope, can’t do that.” Chloe opened the door without permission, finding Beca sitting on the closed toilet seat.

Beca glared at her. “Dude! What if I was peeing?”

“Everyone pees, Becs, it’s no big deal.” Chloe crossed the threshold into the too-small bathroom and closed the door behind her. 

“I’m not up for a chippery pep talk, Chlo. So if you came here to--”

“Strip.” Chloe leaned back against the closed door, arms crossed over her chest as Beca blinked at her slowly, processing the command.

“Uh--what?”

“You heard me. Strip. Hurry up.”

“Chloe,” Beca said. “What the hell are you--”

“I’m getting us out of this. You were right. I shouldn’t have assumed everything would be okay just because it’s Christmas, not all families are sunshine and rainbows, and I’m sorry your dad betrayed your trust like that. I was dismissive of your feelings, and you shouldn’t have to suffer through more of this tonight. So strip.” 

Beca caught on half a beat later. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s--yeah.” She hurriedly started working the buttons of her shirt as her eyes flickered up to Chloe. “Could you, like--not stare this time, or--”

“Psh, fine, fine. Way to spoil my Christmas wish.” Chloe smirked but respectfully stared up at the ceiling instead as Beca stripped down to her bra and underwear. 

“This is gonna suck because it’s so fucking cold out,” she mumbled. “Just got over my hypothermia, remember?”

Chloe accepted the balled up bunch of clothes--Beca’s button-down shirt, her camisole, and her jeans. “It’s this or suffer through the last half of dinner with Jake the Mistake,” Chloe reminded her, and that sealed it for Beca. 

“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.” 

Chloe turned to leave the tiny bathroom before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around, confusion etched in her brow as Beca leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“Thanks for always having my back,” Beca rasped, appreciation shining bright in her grey-blue eyes as she offered Chloe her boots, too.

Chloe’s heart thudded harder in her chest and she shot Beca another one of her trademark winks. “Always have, always will.” 

Chloe returned to the table to find Dr. Mitchell, Sheila, Jake, and Kelsey speaking in low tones as they continued eating their dinners. They paused and looked up at Chloe, their gazes lowering from Chloe’s face to her armful of Beca’s bunched up clothes.

“Oh, Chloe,” Sheila said, clutching at her chest. “Did Beca--”

“Travel? Yep,” Chloe said, nodding firmly. “Stress brings it out sometimes. On the couple occasions it’s happened this semester, she traveled back to the Bellas house, so I’m gonna go and wait for her there.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dr. Mitchell offered, pushing his chair back and freezing when Chloe held out a hand to stop him.

“Please, don’t let this ruin your Christmas dinner. I’ll wait for her, and we’ll text you when she’s back.”

“Where’d she go this time?” Jake asked Chloe.

Chloe shrugged. “We won’t know ‘til she comes back. That’s the tricky part.” She flashed another grin. “Thank you again for having me. I really appreciate the invitation. Have a wonderful rest of your holiday--it was great meeting all of you.” Not nearly as great as she’d hoped, but at least she got to interact with some other people in Beca’s life. People she’d only heard about throughout her childhood.

“Chloe, would you like me to pack up some food for you to take along with you? We have plenty,” Sheila offered.

Chloe shook her head, knowing Beca had likely slipped through the backdoor by now and was waiting for her outside. “No, no thank you. I appreciate the offer. Merry Christmas, guys!” With that, she turned and hoped she wasn’t super obvious about hurrying out of the kitchen, grabbing both her and Beca’s coats from the coat rack on her way out of the house.

“Jesus, dude. It’s about time,” Beca muttered from her spot where she crouched behind the far side of Aubrey’s car, wearing nothing but a bra, underwear, and socks. 

“I couldn’t be super rude about leaving or they would’ve been suspicious!” Chloe explained, hurrying to unlock the car door. 

“You can’t be super rude about anything, sunshine,” Beca shot back as she climbed into the passenger seat, staying low as she accepted the transfer of her clothes from Chloe’s arms. As Chloe backed out of the driveway, Beca scrambled to pull her jeans and shirt back on, curling up beneath her coat as though it were a blanket. 

“Hang on, Becs. This car heats up pretty fast,” Chloe said, fiddling with the knobs until warm air began filtering through the vehicle. “I’m sorry it had to happen like that,” she offered, a rare frown pulling at Chloe’s lips.

“Hey, that’s not your fault,” Beca said. “I’m sorry your Christmas was shitty because of me and my family drama.”

“That’s not your fault, either. It was really not cool of your dad to tell them about your Chrono-Impairment if you specifically asked him not to.” She took a deep, steadying breath, determination shining fierce in her eyes. “And Christmas isn’t over yet.”

When Chloe pulled Aubrey’s car back into the Bellas house driveway, she ushered Beca into the house and shooed her upstairs to wash up and change into her comfiest, coziest pajamas. While Beca retreated to do just that, Chloe raided the fridge and the cabinets, pulling out supplies and lining them on the countertop. Once she had everything accounted for, she set the frying pan atop the stove and began mixing ingredients into a large bowl. 

“What are you doing?” Beca asked from the kitchen archway, tying her hair into a messy knot atop her head. 

“Saving Christmas dinner,” Chloe said. “I’m still hungry. That salad wasn’t even that good, and it was kinda hard even starting on the spaghetti and meatballs with Jake staring at me like I was some sort of piece of meat.” 

Beca chuckled--a sound that helped Chloe’s muscles relax. “Told you so.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know you did. You wanna make yourself useful, or would you rather sit on your cute butt and let me do all the work?” Chloe tossed Beca a smirk over her shoulder.

“Guess I’ll help.” Beca approached the counter beside Chloe, eyeing up the ingredients. “Are we making pancakes?”

“ _Christmas_ pancakes, with white chocolate chips,” Chloe declared.

Beca smiled as she noticed the red and green food dye, tapping each on their closed tips. “You’re such a nerd,” she reminded her for what felt like the hundredth time, fishing her phone out of her pocket. She turned on her Christmas playlist and let the songs play on shuffle before reaching for the measuring cup. 

So Christmas dinner with Beca’s family turned out to be… way less great than Chloe expected, but as she stood there in the Bellas kitchen with Beca at her side, singing along to her favorite Christmas tunes and whipping up their second dinner, Chloe realized there was nowhere else she’d rather be on her favorite night of the year--in the Bellas house, with Beca at her side.


	8. Will She, Won't She?

**December 31, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21  
Beca, age 19

“I can’t believe our aca-dictator sanctioned this,” Stacie called to Chloe over the thumping music before flashing a lascivious smile at the boys behind her. 

The High Notes’ annual New Year’s Eve party was open to any acapella nerd who decided to trek back to campus a week before their winter break officially ended, which this year, accounted for about half of each Barden acapella group. 

“That’s because we’re technically on neutral territory,” Chloe explained with a smirk paired with a wink, shaking her thang in the small circle of Bellas huddled together, most already drunk and laughing with each other as they danced in the High Notes’ living room. “Besides, she’s not here, so what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”

“This s’why you’re our favorite captain,” Ashley slurred, leaning heavily on Jessica, who nodded in agreement. 

“Definitely the favorite,” Jessica agreed.

“Oh, you guys! Don’t be silly. Aubrey’s great, she’s just…” Chloe waved her hand in a flourishing motion, as if searching for the right word. ”...a little intense sometimes, but she loves you all so, so much,” Chloe insisted. “And we make a pretty good team, I think!” 

“This tastes like the kool-aid dude punched me in the face,” Beca said, standing on the outskirts of the Bellas circle and barely bopping her head to the beat as she squinted into the red plastic cup. “Anyone else think we’re getting roofied?”

“You’re not getting roofied,” Chloe insisted with an easy grin. She knew Tom and the guys well enough by now to know they’d never pull a stunt like that. She did, however, catch Beca’s eyes with a wordless questioning glance, knowing alcohol had the tendency to up the risk of triggering a travel. But she wasn’t Beca’s mom or keeper of any sort, and so she vowed to keep an extra eye on her. Beca wouldn’t overdo it, she was fairly confident about that. “Speaking of! I need a refill. Be right back!’ 

Still swaying her hips as she shimmied to the beat of the music toward the kitchen, she flashed a wide smile at the cluster of Trebles leaning over the island counter. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Chloe,” they answered in a small chorus, obviously much more at ease without Aubrey present. While Chloe refilled her drink, they returned to their conversation.

“You gotta do it at midnight, Swanson,” Bumper nudged. “Perfect opportunity. Plus if she backs out that’s like… what, ten years of bad luck or some shit, right?” 

Jesse chuckled, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m not so sure that’s the best way to go about it…”

“It is. Trust me. I’m your captain, and I can basically order you to slip her the tongue.” 

Donald clapped Jesse on the shoulder. “But not too much tongue, bro. Just a little. A hint. Leave her wanting _more_ , know what I’m sayin’?”

Chloe froze by the jungle juice cooler, glancing over her shoulder to find Jesse blushing almost as purple as his Trebles sweatshirt while the small pack of boy band-esque rivals stared out at the cluster of Bellas.

It clicked in the next instant who they were talking about. 

_Beca_.

“Gently caress her cheek like so,” Bumper said, reaching up to demonstrate on Jesse’s face.

“Yo, and do that soft swipe thing with your thumb on her cheekbone! Chicks love that shit,” Donald insisted.

“Guys, I know what I’m doing,” Jesse assured them, swatting Bumper’s hand away. “I appreciate the back-up, but I’ve got this. It almost happened the other night at the radio station and I hesitated… but I’m not gonna hesitate this time.” He puffed out his chest.

“That’s the spirit! Wooooo yeah!” Bumper fist-pumped into the air. “I’m so proud. I’m the proudest. I’m like your dad, you know?”

“...no, Bumper. You’re not my dad…” Jesse wrinkled his nose. “Weird cousin, maybe.” 

“I’ll take it,” Bumper said. “Family’s family. I’ll take that.” 

“I’m not gonna wait until midnight,” Jesse declared, chugging the rest of his drink and slamming the empty plastic cup onto the counter with purpose, laser focus in his eyes as he glanced at the clock and back to Beca. “It’s 11:44. That sounds like the perfect time to make this happen.” 

“He’s gonna do it!” Bumper jumped up and down, clutching the sleeve of Donald’s hoodie as he started up a low cheer. “ _Jes-se! Jes-se! Jes-se!_ ”

Donald joined into his chant, which Chloe heard but didn’t think anyone could hear from the adjacent living room, the blaring music still thrumming through the cluster of dancers.

Chloe refilled her drink almost to the brim, taking a few steps toward the living room but stalling out behind the couch, unable to stop herself from watching what was about to unfold, her stomach suddenly clenching uncomfortably. She took a few pulls of the spiked punch, trying her best to ignore Donald and Bumper’s live broadcasting of Jesse’s attempt behind her. 

Jesse walked--drunkenly staggered?--it was a swagger of sorts he usually lacked and Chloe couldn’t tell if he was drunk or trying to be cool. “ _Becaw!_ ” he squawked over the music, catching Beca’s attention as he approached. 

Drunk. He was pretty drunk, Chloe decided. 

Beca spun around from her conversation with Cynthia Rose and blinked at him, her brow shooting toward her hairline. She offered a weak wave and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. (Was she nervous? Was that a nervous tick?)

They exchanged a few words that Chloe couldn’t hear and Jesse extended his hand, nodding away from the gaggle of girls. 

Beca hesitated, her smile a cross between amusement and a sort of… pained grimace? Beca hated being the center of attention in social situations and Chloe knew that, and she was grateful to _most_ of the girls for not further embarrassing Beca (aside from Stacie’s predictable wolf whistle, but that was to be expected). After a beat, Beca slipped her hand into Jesse’s and let him lead her to the shadowy staircase on the darker, quieter side of the living room. 

Chloe gasped over the rim of her cup and her chest tightened. Was he seriously going to _take her upstairs?_

Beca’s boots pulled to a stop at the foot of the staircase and she shook her head. 

Jesse’s lopsided grin never left his face; he didn’t appear frustrated at all. In fact, determination shined on his expression as he leaned closer, muttering a few words that made Beca laugh. 

Beca _laughed_. 

Was it a genuine laugh, or an anxious laugh? Chloe wished she could hear while also wishing she had the strength to look away from the interaction and she felt a little bit like a creeper just _staring_ at them but god, wouldn’t she be a terrible friend and captain if she _wasn’t_ keeping an eye on all of the Bellas in a partying scenario? Not that she was watching any of the other girls with such intensity. (She could practically hear Aubrey’s admonishing voice in her head.)

Jesse cupped Beca’s cheek. 

Chloe was pretty damn sure he did that thumb stroke thing, too, and she stopped breathing in that moment, unable to tear her eyes away from the pair. The music suddenly dulled in Chloe’s ears as though someone had shoved wadded cotton into both of her ear canals, Bumper and Donald’s running commentary falling silent behind her and she didn’t _care_ if the other Bellas caught her staring--she truly couldn’t help it, knowing she was about to witness a car crash that would render _her_ off-kilter and hurting.

Chloe wasn’t the traveler, but time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace in that moment. 

Because when Jesse leaned in, Beca froze.

Beca froze and her eyes popped wider as her lips fell into a slightly parted gape and Chloe could _see_ it there, right in Beca’s stormy eyes--the look that haunted Chloe for years now. The same exact reaction that made Chloe’s heart burst and shatter for the first time. 

_Confliction._

********

**June 13, 2008**  
Chloe, age 18  
Beca, age 34

“Shit. M’never drinking again,” 34-year-old Beca grumbled as she curled up on a grassy clearing of the forest floor, strongly considering staying there until another travel brought her back to her present. The summer breeze proved blessed relief against the thick June air and Beca sat up slowly, huffing a chuckle when the trees around her spun and she realized she wasn’t hungover.

She was still pretty damn drunk. 

She knew better. Of course she did. Dr. Ford had been warning her about limiting her alcohol intake for nearly two decades, but once in a while, Beca wanted to be like everyone else. And she wanted to _celebrate_ her latest industry success, dammit! It would be fine. It would be worth it. She’d wait it out, travel back, she’d get an earful from her loved ones and doctors for being a little stupid and overdoing it at the party, and she’d move on. 

A rustling in the trees urged Beca to shakily push to her bare feet, keeping herself crouched as she quickly sussed out she landed back in Chloe’s family’s property. The warm Portland temperatures clued Beca into the fact that Chloe and her brother--however old they happened to be--were likely on summer break, so she had to be careful to not traumatize either of them… or, god forbid, their parents. 

So she made her way to the treehouse ladder as she always did, muttering under her breath about climbing drunk not being her smartest decision she’d ever made, but she moved slow enough where she made it with little difficulty. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, noting a hanger wedged between two plans of wood. Unlike her regular Chloe-provided Portland travel getup stashed and wrinkled in the trunk inside, the outfit hanging (presumably for her--who else would leave clothes out like that?) was decidedly more formal. Beca shrugged, tugging on the black slacks and pressed button-down that fit her a bit snugly in the chest. She cuffed the sleeves and tugged at the collar, already too warm in the heat but not thinking too much of it (maybe that was all Ryan had available?) until she stepped inside and froze by the doorway.

By the treehouse window, Chloe had set up… some sort of romantic dinner? A white tablecloth covered the table, which she’d relocated from the opposite corner of the treehouse. Two candlesticks stood between two fancy plates with cloth napkins and wine glasses and everything. And Chloe herself…

Chloe stood tall--as tall as she currently stood in real time--beaming at her with a fond, affectionate smile. She wore a glittery knee-length periwinkle blue dress that set off her eyes and Beca stood with her mouth slightly agape, noting the strappy sandals and heavy makeup and red hair styled down, loosely curled to perfection. Her sluggish, still sloshed brain had her eyes lingering on Chloe’s low-cut bustline before she snapped herself out of it and cleared her throat. “Uh--hi? What’s… what’s all this?”

“Hi, Beca.” Chloe’s smile shined brighter than the sun and she hurried over to take Beca’s hand. “You missed my birthday--it was four days ago. And I graduated last weekend, too, so I thought--I thought we could celebrate together?”

Beca blinked a few times and offered a nose-wrinkle of an apology. “Shit, I did? Sorry. Happy--congrats,” she managed, accidentally fusing two separate congratulatory phrases.

Chloe paused, eyeing her with amusement pulling at the corners of her lips. “You cursed! And you’re--oh my god, are you _drunk?_ ”

Beca snickered. “Yeah, kinda. S’fine. If I had to leave a fancy party, I’d much rather hang out with you.” 

It was hard to miss the heart eyes shining back at her as Chloe ushered her over to the couch. “What kinda party was it?” she asked, sitting beside her and twisting her body to face her.

“Mmmm… nuh-uh, m’not that drunk. Nice try though,” Beca said with a smirk, proud of herself for remembering to censor the facts of the future. “Tell me ‘bout your parties an’ stuff? Did you have a birthday party? Graduation party?” She blinked, eyeing the dress. “Ooooh, prom? Is this your prom dress?”

Chloe’s head bobbed in an eager nod. “Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Beca said decisively, a longing intoxicated glaze in her eyes as she swept her gaze over Chloe once more. “You’re gorgeous. Always have been.”

A bright flush rose across Chloe’s cheeks and chest. “Thanks, Beca. I’m really glad you like it.” 

“Soooo... have you been getting all dressed up, waiting to show me your dress for like, uh--” She squinted, knowing she had no hope of accurately calculating anything drunk. (She barely managed when sober.)

“A week and a half,” Chloe assured her. “I’ve been waiting for you--for _this_ \--for eleven days, to be exact.” She scooted closer to Beca, her lower lip catching between her teeth before she spoke up again. “So Beca, I…”

“Whoa,” Beca said, finally letting Chloe’s words process thanks to her slowed brain functioning. She once again looked around the room, noting the strung up paper hearts on the ceiling of the treehouse, the bottle of wine sitting atop the makeshift table for two. She snorted. “Did you steal that from your parents, Chlo?”

“They won’t notice it’s gone,” Chloe said breezily, determination focused on her features. “And I wanted to tell you--I went to prom with a boy named Wesley. He’s super cute--on the baseball team. And he has a huge crush on me. It’s _totes_ adorable. But when we were dancing, I realized…” She took in a long sigh. “I realized I didn’t want to be at prom with him. I wanted to be with… with someone I really, truly care about.” 

Beca’s gaze fell from the table to the area behind the couch, where Chloe had… laid out a comforter on the floor of the treehouse, lined with a bunch of bed and decorative pillows clearly pilfered from her house. “Uh, Chlo, what’s--”

“I’m in love with you,” Chloe blurted, exhaling in a nervous chuckle. “I think I always have been. It’s always been you, Beca.” 

_Holy shit._

Of all times for Beca to be not fully with it. Her jaw fell slack and she opened and closed her mouth several times, looking very much like a cartoon fish out of water. So this was _that time_. Beca’s last travel to Chloe until they met again years later, when Chloe was a Barden Senior (well, the first time). The time adult!Chloe had only briefly mentioned--a sensitive topic, because Beca had, in her words, broken her heart for the first time. 

The first of many times. 

Knowing she had to tread carefully, Beca swallowed hard, forcing her eyes back on the woman--the _girl_ in front of her. “Chloe… Chlo, listen…”

The light in Chloe’s eyes dimmed when Beca hadn’t immediately confessed her undying love for her in return, but she shifted closer, rallying with a near-desperate focus. “Beca,” Chloe said, reaching out to cup her cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you--for eleven days, dressing up like this--waiting for you show up again so I can tell you. I want to tell you everything. I love you so much, and I want you--” Her eyes flickered to the makeshift bed she’d set up behind the couch. “--I want you in every way. I want you to want me, too.”

“Chloe--” Beca closed her eyes, willing her booze-addled brain to focus on how to handle this. (Holy shit, she was way too drunk for this.)

“Please,” Chloe croaked, shifting until she sat on Beca’s lap, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Beca’s mouth and carding a hand through her chestnut brown locks. “Tell me you want me, too.” 

For an instant, Beca was back at that record launch party where Chloe--an older, age appropriate Chloe--sat in her lap and whispered teasing nothings to her, too. Beca’s hands settled on Chloe’s waist and she shivered before she could help it, her spinning head tipping back. “Chloe…” A thready groan escaped on her exhale as Chloe trailed hot open-mouthed kisses down the side of her neck and setting small fires in their wake, lipstick brushing and staining the collar of her brother’s dress shirt. “Chloe-- _fuck_.” Beca hissed a sharp inhale, hips rolling in a desperate bid for friction.

“I’m yours, Beca,” Chloe murmured, kissing her way back up the column of Beca’s neck, suckling on a thundering pulsepoint there. She kissed her way to Beca’s earlobe, tugging it between her teeth to elicit another whimper from Beca before whispering against her ear. “Make love to me.” 

“Shit.” Beca jolted back to the present--back to Chloe’s present, whatever--her eyes snapping open as her hands stilled and squeezed at Chloe’s hips to ground herself while Chloe leaned in, her lips hovering centimeters from Beca’s as she waited for Beca to close the distance between them. 

When Beca didn’t move, Chloe pulled back fractionally to see the look on Beca’s face. That absolutely gutted, torn-in-half sort of look, where she wanted so desperately to kiss her but at the same time _didn’t_ want to--couldn’t kiss her--for so many reasons.

 _Confliction._

Beca’s brain seemed to reboot after another few beats and Chloe leaned in to seal the deal herself. Beca turned her head and Chloe’s lips hit her cheek instead. “H-hang on, this isn’t--we can’t--Chlo.” She cleared her throat. “I can’t--we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Chloe’s hands braced against Beca’s neck. “I’m eighteen now. There’s nothing stopping--”

“Eighteen is _barely_ of age, Chloe,” Beca said, willing her drunk body to chill the fuck out with the needy thumping. _Jesus_. She took in a few deep breaths. “And I’m thirty-four. This isn’t--it’s not right--” _Yet_. She barely stopped herself from tacking that on. 

“Age doesn’t matter. It’s only a number. You said it before--besides, it’s not like I’m a virgin--”

“Chloe,” Beca said, hoping one time speaking her name would knock some sense into the _barely eighteen-year-old_ on her lap. “Listen to me, okay? Just--listen.” 

Chloe pulled back but didn’t move, her lower lip wibbling as tears stung her eyes. “It’s okay. You don’t have to--it’s okay that you don’t--I just thought we--”

“You’re my best friend,” Beca said as firmly as she could, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of ginger hair behind Chloe’s ear. “And you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever known. Trust me. I’ve got years and years of evidence to support that.” She took in another shaky breath. “You and me--we’ve got-- _so much_ to experience together. This…” She raised a hand to circle her pointer finger around the room--the date, the whole situation Chloe had clearly worked hard to set up with an expectation, a purpose. “This is amazing. You’re amazing. But…”

“But you don’t love me back,” Chloe whispered, devastation plain on her face. 

Beca’s heart clenched and she wished she could do anything to take away Chloe’s pain, but telling her things--the things Chloe wanted to hear--it would only mess everything up. “I’m a tough person to love, Chlo,” Beca said. “Think about it. You’re always waiting for me. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life… looking over your shoulder, hoping I’ll pop in. _Waiting_.” She shook her head to emphasize that, because Beca was damn sure Chloe had spent much of her life thus far waiting around her house, avoiding other tasks or social events or opportunities hoping she wouldn’t miss a visit from Beca. “You’re gonna go to college across the entire country next month!” Beca offered a sad smile, doing her best to use the pads of her thumbs to brush away Chloe’s tears as they fell. “You’re gonna meet so many amazing people. You’re gonna have so much fun. Being hung up on me… it’ll ruin so much of that. I want you to enjoy college, Chlo. I want you to meet guys… and girls, whatever floats your boat…” Beca’s smile pressed into a smoother grin. “I want you to have experiences without me, so you can learn and grow and all that stuff. Dating. Friendships. So much singing and dancing. And, y’know… focusing on school is a little important too…” 

Chloe sniffled, reaching up to trace Beca’s jawline with her fingertips. “None of that stuff matters to me. I only wanna be with you.”

Beca sighed, that fond smile still stuck on her expression. Chloe had always loved fiercely, with her whole heart, and her dedication to whatever ignited her passion had always been unparalleled. It was one of the things Beca loved best about Chloe. “Can I tell you a little something… about the future?” 

Chloe blinked up at Beca, tears webbing her long eyelashes as her head bobbed in a miserable nod. Despite her freshly fractured heart, the ever-present desire to hear _anything_ about the future from Beca was too much to turn down.

“Hey, c’mere,” Beca said, tucking Chloe against her to hold her close. “We’re gonna meet in college. Well… _I’ll_ meet _you_.” Beca took in a deep, shuddering breath as she stroked her hand up and down Chloe’s arm, a gesture that had always soothed her. “I’m not gonna tell you specifics on how and when and where… but I’ll need you, okay? I’ll be kind of a mess. And you’re the one who… you’re the only one who _gets me_. I’ve been through a lot, my childhood--it wasn’t great. And I’m slow to trust, but I trust you quicker than I thought possible. In a way… you save me, Chlo. You’re my person and you always will be.”

“It’s gonna be weird, when we’re the same age,” Chloe mused aloud, her voice weaker and still laced with sadness. 

“Yeah,” Beca agreed, a fond, reminiscent grin pulling at her lips. “You probably won’t even like me like this anymore by then, after you meet all your cool college friends and experience all kinds of relationships. I was kind of a walking disaster back then,” she said with a snicker, doing her best to disguise as much of the truth as she could for Chloe’s sake. So Chloe felt free to explore and experience and not feel so… locked in, to have her life so predetermined as Beca already knew how much of it would play out. 

“I bet that’s not true,” Chloe gently challenged with another sniffle. 

“It’s true.” Beca insisted, her gaze drifting back toward the table by the window. “You weren’t actually gonna light those candlesticks in here, were you? Sounds like a recipe for disaster…”

A hoarse chuckle broke through Chloe’s sadness and she shook her head. “No, I know… it was more of an aesthetic thing…” 

Beca’s muscles relaxed once Chloe laughed. A sad Chloe Beale was too much to bear and always had been. And then Beca’s muscles… kept relaxing, the telltale tingle in her toes. “I’m about to go. For a while, this time.” She forced a wobbly grin, never having gotten used to this part--the part where she upset Chloe by traveling away from her, time and time again.

Chloe gasped and sat up, her hands cupping Beca’s cheeks as she furiously shook her head. “No, wait--that wasn’t enough time. Stay, Beca. Please--”

Tears prickled in Beca’s eyes and she wanted so desperately to reassure Chloe that everything would be okay. To tell her not to miss her too much, that they’d be together again in a few years. That the beginning of their friendship would be insane for so many reasons, but also some of the best years of Beca’s life. To remind her not to wait around for her, to date other people and _live_ as much as she could. 

But as the tingle spread upward, a coil of fear snaked through Beca’s core--a fear that maybe her insistence that Chloe dating around would somehow set Chloe on a path to fall in love with someone else. Harder, more deeply. And it was that panic that had her blurting her parting words to Chloe before she realized the full weight behind them.

“Don’t give up on me, Chloe.”

********

**December 31, 2011**  
Chloe, age 21  
Beca, age 19

As Jesse leaned in, Beca turned her head in time for Jesse’s lips to make contact with her cheek. She braced her hand on his chest before stepping back, muttering something--Chloe knew that face, it was some sort of apology--before dashing up the staircase.

Relief and confusion simultaneously swirled through Chloe because she didn’t know enough about Jesse to know if he was good enough for Beca, for one. And secondly, well… Beca seemed to really like Jesse. 

(“It’s not really your business, Chloe,” Aubrey’s voice chided in her head. “And if you were really Beca’s friend, you’d keep her away from that _Treble_.”)

Objectively, Jesse didn’t seem like a bad guy or anything. Chloe felt a pang of solidarity, her eyes tracking him as he shuffled back to the kitchen, dejected. Donald and Bumper shoved a refilled drink into his hand to help numb the sting of rejection. 

Chloe offered what she hoped was a comforting grin when he passed, but he kept his head down. She glanced over at the dancing group of Bellas before making her way up the staircase--and smacking right into Tom. 

“Chloe! Hey, babe!” He pulled her in for a one-armed hug, his sweatshirt reeking of weed. Clearly he’d been celebrating with some of his High Notes buds and decided to join the party. “You hanging out for a while?”

“Totes!” Chloe grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I was just heading to the bathroom. I’ll meet you downstairs?”

“You got it,” he said, squeezing her arm affectionately as he walked off.

Chloe headed down the hallway and swung a left to find the bathroom door closed. She hesitated before knocking twice. “Beca?” No answer. “Beca? It’s me. Are you okay?” 

She waited two more full minutes in case Beca was _actually_ using the bathroom, instead of utilizing the space as an introverted getaway from an awkward situation, as she had at the disastrous Christmas dinner only a week ago. 

“Bec, I’m coming in,” Chloe offered as warning, giving Beca a few beats to protest before she pushed inside. 

Beca wasn’t anywhere to be found, but a pile of her clothes lay heaped on the floor. 

With a heavy sigh, Chloe stepped inside and locked the door behind her, taking care to fold up each of Beca’s garments. She picked up Beca’s leather jacket as the choral countdown to midnight boomed in an echo from the floor below. Part of her knew she should rush back downstairs and find Tom--what was a New Year’s midnight without a good luck kiss, after all? 

But instead, she stayed right where she was.

_“--five, four, three, two, one--Happy New Year!”_

Chloe leaned back against the bathroom sink and pressed a kiss to the collar of Beca’s jacket before hugging it to her chest and closing her eyes, casting a silent wish that Beca was okay.

“Happy New Year, Beca,” she whispered to herself. “Wherever you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing from Pitch Perfect or The Time Traveler's Wife. Connect with me on Tumblr @ icarli. :)


End file.
